There Is Life Outside Your Apartment
by Audrey Lynne
Summary: Steve is adjusting to his new world. Tony shows up with a scheme. And thus begins a mixed-up crazy ride with America's most dysfunctional superheros. Tony/Pepper, Steve/Peggy plus another relationship, later, and a smattering of Clint/Natasha.
1. There Is Life Outside Your Apartment

_**There Is Life Outside Your Apartment**_

_by Audrey Lynne_

Captain America was "a bigger-than-life superhero phenomenon," as described in an article in the _New York Post_. Steve Rogers, on the other hand, still felt like he just got lucky. Lucky to get into the SSR, lucky the serum worked, lucky to be found after spending seventy years frozen in ice. Perhaps not so lucky when it came to the ice itself. He was convinced it was his imagination, but it had taken Steve weeks to feel warm again after waking in that spartan SHIELD hospital room and he still chilled easily.

Now the Avengers were all anyone in the news could talk about. They'd parted ways, partly because they were possibly one of the most dysfunctional functioning teams in history. Partly to escape the media circus that wanted to blame them for the billions of dollars of damage done to Manhattan by Loki's army. Partly because they were afraid of what being a team might really mean. They'd nearly fallen asleep over shwarma – which Steve hadn't been particularly fond of, but sometimes food was food. They'd brought Loki to justice. Steve had been reunited with his motorcycle, kept in pristine condition by Howard and then Tony Stark. He'd rode out to his old haunts, but they were new, shiny, and not the way he remembered them at all.

Kind of like the rest of the world.

Steve had retreated to the apartment SHIELD had set him up with. Other than occasional grocery runs to the delightfully quaint grocery store on the corner, he hadn't been out much. His apartment had been deliberately decorated to reduce culture shock, and it was a safe haven. Even though modern amenities were available to him, and the microwave had proven to be very useful, it helped to be insulated by familiarity. Steve still felt like a stranger in a strange land. He was afraid to look up his old comrades, knowing most of them had died long ago. The closest link Steve had to his past was Tony Stark, and while they had learned to work together well, Steve and Tony had also learned they had the propensity to drive one another crazy.

Steve had been genuinely curious to find out who Tony's mother had been. Part of him wanted to know who the ladies' man Howard Stark had finally settled down with. A smaller, pettier part of him that he wasn't at all proud of wondered if it might have been Peggy. But, no, Tony's mother was a woman named Maria Stark. A kind woman who listened to the tales of Howard's glory days and looked the other way when he went off to play spy games. No one Steve knew.

Steve had almost been able to believe the SHIELD agent who had first been assigned to watch over and reorient him was Peggy. Then he'd taken a second look – close, but definitely not. The baseball game was out of date. Once Director Fury had shown Steve to his apartment, SHIELD pretty much left him alone – officially – until Fury came back to recruit Captain America to the Avengers.

Left with time alone to poke at his new computer, Steve had managed to discover the wonders of Google and poured over what little unclassified information was available about the life of Agent Margaret Carter. After the war, she didn't stray far from science. Given what he now knew about SHIELD and Howard's role in it, Steve wouldn't have been the least bit surprised to find Peggy was another of the founders. None of the articles mentioned a date of death, which was both hopeful and terrifying to Steve. How could he, still twenty-two, track her down in her nineties and have it help her more than hurt?

Life had become fairly routine for Steve. He slept, he ate, he worked out, he burned microwave popcorn. He was in the midst of trying to send an email when there was a quick but insistent knock at his door – definitely out of the ordinary. Fury pretty much let himself in, and Steve hadn't had any other visitors.

Steve peered out the peephole and found Tony Stark on the other side of his door. Surprised, he hesitated a moment before opening the door.

"I know you're in there!" Tony yelled from the hallway. "I can smell you...it's like apple pie and tequila."

Steve shook his head and opened the door before Tony could truly make a scene. As long as he didn't have his uniform on, Steve had learned how to blend in with a crowd, which meant the neighbors pretty much left him alone. That wouldn't last if they saw Tony Stark harassing him through a door. He stepped back to let Tony inside. "I don't drink tequila."

Tony shrugged. "Your loss. More for me."

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked.

"Well, I tried to call," Tony said, "but your cell phone was off."

"I wasn't using it," Steve explained.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, for crying out – that is _not_ how a cell phone works, Gramps! You're supposed to leave it on so people can _call you_. But. Anyway. It's been two weeks since Thor beamed himself back to his planet, and repairs to Stark Tower are going swimmingly; I'm so glad you asked. No, wait, you didn't."

Steve sighed. "Please tell me you didn't come here to convince me that we should all live together." That idea had been proposed after shwarma, back when they were all too tired to think it was anything but Tony's slaphappy adrenaline letdown talking. Right, the Avengers living together in the Stark mansion. Thor and Hulk could destroy the basement with their wrestling matches, Hawkeye could make a nest on the upper level, and Natasha could...whatever it was she did when she wasn't taking down men (or aliens) twice her size. Throw in one super soldier out of time and a billionaire genius playboy and Jarvis would probably have the computer equivalent of a mental breakdown. Steve wasn't at all sure how the thing kept up with Tony.

"I still think that would kick ass," Tony said, grinning. "Avengers Mansion. Banner and I could play in the labs. Jarvis would make cookies. It would be sweet."

"Your computer makes cookies?" Steve asked.

"Technically, he's an artificial intelligence," Tony pointed out, "and he makes a lot of things. But since everyone seems to want to play Lone Ranger, I guess we'll put that idea on the back burner. On with the current mission."

"Which is?" Steve prompted.

"There is life outside your apartment." Tony grabbed Steve's arm and pulled him toward the door. "Come on, I've got satellite radio in my car. I'll put on 40's on 4, just for you. It'll be fun."

Steve pulled his arm back. Without the power armor, he had the physical advantage and he wasn't above using it, especially if this involved Tony's dubious definition of "fun." "What's your angle?"

Tony gasped dramatically and put a hand to his chest as if affronted. "Can't a guy want to hang with his buddy?"

So now they were buddies? As much as Steve liked that idea, he still didn't trust Tony completely. "Why?"

Tony spread his hands out in front of him, a "butter would not melt in my mouth" expression on his face. "Listen, I kind of might have set up this double date for us. Pepper got an email and I let her handle things, because that's kind of what she does, and...you know, women."

Now Steve was the one rolling his eyes. "I'm not going to let you blame this on your girlfriend."

"Business partner," Tony said, holding up a finger. "But also my girlfriend, yes. And if you were smart, you'd take this deal, because I stand a lot to lose here. I used to play with this girl when I was a kid. I'm sure she'd love to tell you Baby Iron Man stories. Not good for my image."

Steve wasn't sure whether he was more amused or confused. "Why did she mail Pepper then, if she knew you?"

"Because she knows me well enough to know that if it's not technical or shiny, it takes a lot to get my interest." Tony shrugged. "Pepper gets results. Besides, she thinks it's _sweet_."

"Okay, fine." Steve realized it was easier to give in than make excuses. "But why me?"

"She likes blondes and I had trouble sending smoke signals to Thor?"

"Stark..."

"Oh, you are just no fun at all." Tony smirked. "As it happens, she grew up hearing about the heroic adventures of Captain America just like I did, and now that you've thawed out sufficiently, she hit a dead end at work."

"Work?" Steve asked. "What is she, a SHIELD agent?"

Tony adopted another innocent expression. "Um, possibly?" He immediately held up his hands. "I know, I know, they're not my favorite people either. But she and Phil used to geek out together, I guess, and she really wanted to spend time with you after she got reassigned. Plus, like I said, she has dirt on me, so it's really in my best interests to cooperate."

Steve sighed, knowing in his heart this was probably a terrible idea. But though he hadn't known Phil Coulson long, the man had been endearing in his hero worship. He had believed in the Avengers when they hadn't believed in themselves. Captain America tried never to disappoint his fans, and though plain old Steve Rogers was content to hide away from the world for a while, he was kind of hungry. One dinner couldn't hurt. "Fine. Just let me shower first."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, you'll want to get that old guy smell off you."

Steve gave Tony a "friendly" punch to the arm that was a little stronger than strictly necessary.

* * *

Two hours later, Steve, Tony, and Pepper were waiting in the lobby of Stark Tower for Steve's date to arrive. Tony and Pepper were busy flirting outrageously with one another. Steve was beginning to feel a little bit like a third wheel when a woman walked into the building. Steve froze. This was the agent who had greeted him upon his arrival to the 21st century, then disappeared. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and she was wearing modern clothes, but that was her.

"Um...hello." She smiled shyly, shifting from one foot to the next. "We were never properly introduced, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to put you through this little game, but it seemed easier to get a hold of you through Tony, to make sure you were ready for contact. Director Fury thought it was best we no longer see each other professionally." She didn't sound very happy about that.

"He'll get over it." Tony had pulled himself away from Pepper's lips and greeted the SHIELD agent with a hug. "So, it's only been, what, fifteen years?"

"Too long," she said affectionately. She took a deep breath, then offered Steve a handshake. "I'm Sharon."

Steve knew full well she already knew who he was, but protocol was protocol. He still got nervous around women. And her resemblance to the woman he had loved so dearly was disarming. "Steve Rogers."

Pepper extended a hand to Sharon as well. "Good to meet you, Agent Carter, at least in person."

Tony frowned at her. "Wait, Phil was Phil, but Sharie gets the 'agent' treatment?"

The agent blushed. "Tony, no one's called me Sharie since I was a kid."

"Wait, wait, wait." Steve held up a hand, knowing if this woman knew his history, she had to know what that name meant to him. "Agent _Carter_?"

She nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "My dad was Aunt Peggy's kid brother. She pretty much raised me after my parents were killed in a car accident. I didn't mean to mislead you, I just...she idolized you. I had to meet the man that meant so much to her."

Despite his losing ten dollars to Nick Fury, it really did take a lot to shock Steve. That did it. "Your...aunt."

Tony dropped a hand on Steve's arm. "Well, I'll leave you two to chat. Pepper and I are probably going to go have sex or something."

Pepper slapped Tony's arm. "Not now, you aren't."

Steve barely noticed as they stepped away. It took some courage for him to ask, "How is she? I mean, is she still...?"

Sharon nodded. "She's a tough one, hanging in there. She's gotten pretty frail lately, but she has her mind, which is great."

It hurt to think of Peggy as frail, but at her age, it was probably to be expected. "Does she know...?"

Sharon smiled. "Her whole face lit up when I told her they'd finally found you. She never stopped believing."

Steve smiled. He'd needed to hear that. In his heart, he knew. "Do you mind if we make a stop on our way to dinner?" Hours ago, he wouldn't have thought he could do it, but now he had to go. "I owe your aunt a dance."

Sharon smiled. Her eyes were beginning to mist up. "That would mean the world to her."

Steve returned the smile, feeling his own emotions beginning to rise. "She meant the world to me."

* * *

_Author's notes: The title was borrowed from the awesome and twisted musical "Avenue Q." I know this little story will probably be Jossed when Captain America 2 or Avengers 2 comes out, but I had to get it out of my head._


	2. Coming Home

_Thank you all so much for the favorites, alerts, and reviews. I was happily surprised by the level of response to this story. And since I saw Avengers for the third time today, I was inspired to write more._

* * *

As Sharon Carter and Steve Rogers left Stark Tower together, Tony – cheerfully using Jarvis to spy on them – smirked at Pepper. "Have I done my good deed for the day now?"

Pepper looked like she was pretending to think it over. "I guess so. It _was_ awfully nice." She clasped her hands in front of her. "It's going to be so sweet. I want to cry just thinking about it."

Tony shook his head. "You women. Always with the over-the-top romantic fantasies. Anyway, just remember – I didn't do it for _him_." He had grown up in the shadow of Captain America, but unlike his playmate Sharon, he had grown to resent it. Mostly because of the way his father worshiped a man who had been gone for decades but ignored his own son. Peggy Carter had shown Tony more affection when he was growing up than Howard ever had. She would come over with Sharon, then leave her and Tony to play under Maria Stark's watchful eye, but Peggy always gave Tony a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. He got more love from her in a day than he got from his father in years. Anyone who knew him knew it was a sticking point – except, of course, for Steve, who was blissfully oblivious. Also, quick to point out Tony's flaws. He'd pretty much shut up about that after Tony's encounter with the nuke, but that didn't mean it didn't sting before.

Tony's childhood hero had also become his arch rival for his father's attention, and the man wasn't even around. Now he had a chance to actually be friends with the guy, but Tony didn't know if he could let go of old hurts entirely. He didn't even know if Steve wanted to be his friend at all, if Steve saw him as anything other than Howard's son. But, still, Tony had cooperated when Pepper asked for his help on Sharon's behalf. He owed that much to Peggy, and to the only playmate Tony had who wasn't a robot.

Pepper drew close to Tony. "I know why you did it, and it may be one of the most decent things you've done lately."

"Besides nearly sacrificing myself to save Manhattan from a nuke?" Tony asked glibly.

Pepper hit him upside the head. "Correction – one of the most decent things you've done with my permission."

* * *

Despite Sharon's easy-going manner and the CD of 1940's Broadway musicals she had on in the car, Steve was getting increasingly nervous. He wanted to do this, badly, but he was afraid of the fallout. As they approached the retirement village where Peggy lived, he knew he wouldn't back out – he couldn't, he owed it to Peggy – but he began to wonder about the advisability of showing up like this.

Sharon watched him for a moment after she parked the car. "You still feeling up to this?"

Steve nodded. It was the right thing to do. More so, he _wanted_ to do it, bittersweet as it might be. From everything Sharon had said thus far, it was clear she loved her aunt deeply. Surely she wouldn't be supporting this if she didn't think it might be healing for Peggy as well? "Let's go."

* * *

Sharon smiled as she noticed Steve taking in the fancy lobby of Peggy's building. She leaned in close to tell him, "I know you may not trust us entirely, but SHIELD takes care of their own."

He looked back at her, not all that surprised. "So she _was_ involved with the organization?"

"Oh, quite." Sharon chuckled. "I'll have to bring you by Headquarters some time, let you take a look at the pictures of the early days. If Director Fury will let me. He can be such a pain in the ass sometimes."

"What would he care about me going through the founders' pictures?" Steve asked.

Sharon shrugged. "He likes to remain in control of information. Also, you're not the only one around who isn't as young as he looks." Before Steve could question that, they'd arrived at Peggy's apartment. "Let me go on in and prep her. You wait here – and try not to get mobbed by any rabid fangirls. You're quite popular around these parts."

Steve gave her a crooked smile. Her aunt had been right – his smile was to die for. He stepped out of the line of sight as Sharon knocked on the door.

"Sharon!" Peggy smiled widely as she opened the door. "I thought you were working."

Sharon grinned and quickly accepted the hug her aunt pulled her into. "It's my day off. Thought I'd spend some time with my favorite auntie."

Peggy snorted, but her eyes were amused. "I'm your only aunt."

"Technicalities." Sharon was not the least bit surprised to see the television was tuned to a news channel that was playing clips of the Avengers in action. "This city has Avengers fever."

"It's like I always told Nick," Peggy said thoughtfully, "...people don't realize how much they need a hero until they get one." A scene of Iron Man, sans mask, signing autographs caught her attention. "Howard would be proud of what his boy's become. Those two were always more alike than they ever wanted to admit. I just wish they could have seen eye-to-eye before Howard died. He wasn't always so restrained, you know."

Sharon nodded. She knew nothing had been quite the same for Peggy or Howard after Captain America was lost to the ocean. The difference was, Peggy had refused to shut herself off. Oh, she'd waited, always trusting, but she hadn't become afraid of connecting with anyone else.

Peggy reached for the remote, turning the TV off. "I'm sure you've seen this all before. How's work?"

Sharon shrugged. "Routine. Hopefully, recent events have convinced the director he doesn't need to shelter his pet project anymore." Once Steve realized where and _when_ he was, Sharon had been quickly reassigned to another case, with Fury claiming he didn't want Steve to have any "unnecessary distractions." "Oh! I almost forgot. I brought you something. Let me go get it." She hadn't heard any squeals coming from the hallway yet, but she was pretty sure they were on borrowed time. Besides, Sharon knew Steve was a little anxious about how this would go. She stepped out into the hall, motioning for Steve to join her.

* * *

Steve's breath caught in his throat as he saw Peggy. White hair in an elegant bun, impossibly thin...but that was his lady. He was acutely aware that he was staring, but she didn't seem to care as her hands went to her mouth, pure joy overtaking her face. Her eyes watered, and Steve's were getting misty as well.

Steve struggled with his emotions for a moment before he was able to speak. "Sorry I'm late."

She cautiously stepped forward, shaking her head as her tears spilled over. She reached a hand up, but stopped just short of touching him. "I waited," she whispered.

Steve took her hand and squeezed it gently, then put his free hand to her cheek. "I know." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sharon moving toward the record player, and soon the opening notes of "Moonlight Serenade" filled the room. Steve's voice was uneven. "I don't suppose I could have that dance now?"

She bit her lower lip and nodded, her grip on his hand tight. Steve still didn't know how to dance, but it didn't matter, as they just held each other and swayed with the music, tears running freely down both their faces. Finally, she found her voice again. "I'm really quite mad at you."

As she should be. A part of Steve was surprised she hadn't tried to sock him when he showed up. "It's okay." If he'd had any other choice, he wouldn't have put that plane into the ocean. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the freezing water filling the compartment, already slushy...whispering her name as the water lapped at his chin and he finally lost consciousness.

Peggy pulled closer to him, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, carefully not to hold her too tightly. She felt as if she might break. "I've missed you so."

Steve wanted to say he missed her more, that she was in all of his dreams on the rare occasions he was able to sleep, but he hadn't spent every day of seventy years waiting, trusting in the face of contradictory evidence. "I missed you too."

They stood together for a long time after the song ended. Steve bent his head to drop a kiss on her forehead and she smiled up at him. Their lips met, and for Steve, time stood still. In his mind, he was flying again, standing in a car racing a jet. He could almost feel the wind whipping about them, the only time he'd been reluctant to go save the world.

For a moment, everything was right.

* * *

_Sorry for the short chapter, but I couldn't find a more perfect place to leave it for now. Coming soon, Pepper and Sharon swoon over True Love and Tony demands a DNA swab._


	3. Debriefing

Sharon thought she had been mentally prepared for all possibilities when Captain America and his One True Love – it had always been capitalized in her head, when she was a little girl – reunited. She had never imagined something so magical would take place. Perhaps it was normal to professional romantics, who believed love always prevailed, but to a realist like Sharon, it was different. She had grown up hearing Aunt Peggy speak wistfully of her love, and the longing in her eyes was always there. Even when Sharon told her he'd been found, that he was alive, the pain lurked behind the joy. Now, as Peggy and Steve pulled away from an extended kiss, that longing had vanished. Unbefuckinglievable, as Tony Stark would have said.

As Sharon wiped away her own happy tears, she came to a further realization. Before Fury had whisked her away from the recovering Captain to a job keeping tabs on other New York notables, Sharon had worried that Steve always looked so lost. She knew the adjustment had to be rough, but there was no trace now of the sadness that clung to him in that SHIELD hospital room. Sharon didn't think she had ever seen two people so happy in her life. Ever. More than that, they looked...satisfied. As if this was the logical conclusion of events.

Peggy already held a certain status in her community, not only for her own war heroics, but also having been the ever-faithful girlfriend of Captain America. Most of the women in her building were younger and had grown up on the news reels of their stories. Most of the single men flirted shamelessly with her. She was always kind, but firm. Never needlessly stuck in the past – she'd always used to tell Sharon, "I know Steve would have wanted me to be happy, but I haven't found that right partner yet." Sharon wondered if Peggy ever would, with the notion of One True Love pretty solid in a young girl's head. Now she knew.

* * *

"He doesn't have a curfew, you know," Pepper said, coming up behind Tony as he watched Jarvis' security footage of the Stark Tower lobby. She slipped her arms around his waist and tucked her chin over his shoulder. It was already an hour past the time Sharon had estimated she and Steve would be back.

"It's not him I'm worried about," Tony said, leaning his head against hers for a moment before fussing with the light balance of the video feed. "It's his date."

"Which one?" Pepper asked.

Tony turned around to hug Pepper from the front. "Am I such a sap for wanting to make sure an old lady doesn't get her heart broken?"

Pepper smiled. "Yes." She kissed Tony lightly. "But I love that."

Tony stole another quick kiss. "Well, if it's attractive."

Pepper nodded. "Very. But I wouldn't worry. For Steve, that relationship never really ended. I don't think he has an ounce of malice in him."

"Except when it comes to me, apparently," Tony pointed out.

True, even though the two had moved past their initial butting of heads, the relationship between Tony and Steve was still a new and fragile one. "And I don't suppose you taunted him at _all_."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe a little. But only because he was being such a hardass."

"Sir?" Jarvis interrupted.

Tony's eyes snapped back to the security feed. "Yes?"

"Agent Carter's vehicle has entered the garage."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Tony looked back at Pepper. "Shall we go meet them?"

"Oh, yes, let's." Pepper wanted all the details.

* * *

"It was _so_ sweet," Sharon gushed. "I could not stop crying."

"Oh, my God." Pepper clasped her hands together over her chest briefly. "So romantic." Tony had pulled Steve aside, presumably to deliver the "you hurt either one of those women and you die" speech he had told Pepper all about. Steve had been walking on air when he came in, a slightly dazed smile on his lips.

Pepper might have been a professional business woman, but she had her feminine side, and she had always been a sucker for tales of love prevailing through difficult circumstances. Maybe it had something to do with knowing how close she had come to being in Peggy's position before – to watch her love go off to sacrifice himself for the common good. It could still happen. She tried not to think about that any more than necessary.

"So have you ladies squealed enough about the details?" Tony asked as he strolled back into the room. "Is it safe for testosterone in here?"

Pepper rolled her eyes. "We're fine, thank you."

Tony nodded, then looked at Sharon. "Did you happen to get that DNA swab?"

Sharon scoffed. "Yeah, right in the middle of a beautiful moment, I interrupted it and asked Steve to let me swab his mouth."

"I'm just saying, you could have gotten it before Fury shipped you around. The man was unconscious. Not hard."

Steve had followed Tony into the room, which Tony either hadn't noticed or didn't care about. It was hard to tell sometimes. "Why do you want my DNA?"

Tony ignored him. "I'd think you'd be super-interested, especially with your current assignment."

"Why do you want my DNA?" Steve repeated, a little edgier this time. "You're not thinking of doing something with the serum, are you?"

"God, no." Tony shook his head. "One of you's bad enough."

Steve calmed quickly, that smile beginning to creep back onto his face. He looked at Sharon, as if hoping for less sarcastic answers.

Sharon shook her head. "Let me solve this the easier way. Steve, are you related to anyone by the name of Storm?"

Steve looked thoughtful. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Sharon pointed to Tony. "He's just on one of his kicks. I'm currently keeping tabs on the Fantastic Four, and one of them happens to bear a striking resemblance to you. That's all. Tony's nosy."

"The who?" Steve asked. "It sounds like a band."

"Well, they are a strange little band," Sharon admitted. "They're supers, too, but they've pretty much tried to keep in the background for the past few years. They got tired of dealing with the same stuff the Avengers are going through now, who's responsible for the destruction, and all that. Plus, I think they just wanted some friggin' privacy. Can't blame 'em."

"I still say it's creepy," Tony insisted. "They could trade uniforms and you'd _never_ _know_. I'll take Storm over him, though."

"Yeah, because he's just like you." Pepper couldn't resist.

Tony nodded. "Minus a few billion dollars, a lot of genius, and not quite so charmingly handsome. But he can fly. While on _fire_. Top that, Cap'n."

Steve didn't rise to the bait. He stepped around Tony, then moved to stand next to Sharon. "So tell me...is a couple of friends getting coffee together still a thing?"

Sharon smiled. "It certainly is – but the coffee's gotten pretty fancy." She extended her hand, which Steve took. "Is that an offer?"

"Oh, so this is our cue to leave?" Tony acted affronted. "Fine, I see how it's going to be. Leave us. Bye." He waved dramatically, then paused. "Oh, wait, I live here."

Pepper didn't want to encourage him, so she hid her chuckle behind her hand. If Tony ever got his way and the Avengers kept house together, it was going to be stuff like this all day long. Pepper wasn't sure if that was a bad thing or not.

* * *

_Coming soon – Steve is stupid in love, and Tony calls up the other lovebirds – aka Clint and Natasha._


	4. You Gotta Go After the Things You Want

It was an absolutely gorgeous day on Kaanapali Beach, one of the best in Maui. The sun was warm, but not too hot, the waves were lapping the shore, and the beach was not too crowded. The SHIELD agents code-named Hawkeye and Black Widow were enjoying a well-deserved vacation. Life was good.

Natasha Romanoff looked as splendid in a bikini as Clint Barton remembered from previous missions, except this time, she had the luxury of lounging on a beach towel for as long as she damned well pleased. She turned occasionally to avoid over-cooking any one side, even though she'd doused herself in plenty of sunscreen already – had to protect her delicate redheaded complexion, after all. Clint watched with a little amusement and a lot of appreciation. "I feel like I'm watching a chicken bake."

She lifted her head and pulled her floppy hat away from her face. "Bite me, Clint."

Clint bared his teeth at her playfully. "Any time, Nat."

Natasha chuckled and rolled over, changing Clint's exceptional view from butt to boobs. He wasn't complaining. "Just enjoy the moment. No aliens, no arms dealers, no Fury..."

"Oh, I'm quite happy here, actually," Clint assured her. They'd barely had time to rest after saving New York and shipping Loki off to Asgard for justice when SHIELD called them, apologizing for the recall but insisting they were needed urgently. That had sent the two agents off on an interesting mission in the Middle East - "interesting" meaning "basically, just trying not to get killed." They'd got their rogue arms dealer, delivered him to SHIELD, and immediately put in for two weeks of vacation. Clint had added the word "undisturbed" and underlined it a few times on his application for leave. So far, so good. They had three days left in Hawaii and Clint would have been perfectly content to spend them all like this. The only way it could have been better would be if the hotel had screwed up their reservations and given them one bed instead of the two Natasha had requested.

Clint knew he and Natasha loved each other on a platonic level, but they always flirted with something more. Sometimes he thought things were going to get sexual, but they hadn't yet. They talked about it a lot – never all that seriously, but fairly often. Natasha had never hidden the fact that she thought love was a fairy tale and Clint wasn't sure of anything other than the fact that he didn't want to screw up a fabulous partnership. So far, what they had worked for them.

The vacation was exactly what they'd both needed to get the whole mess with Loki out of their heads. It would always bug Clint, always, that he'd been such a pawn, but the well-stocked bar they'd set up in their hotel room had led to more than a few late-night talks. He'd gotten enough of it out of his system to move on.

"So are we driving out to Hana tomorrow?" Natasha asked, her voice slightly muffled under her hat, which was again pulled over her face to shield it from the sun. The bridge of her nose always burned first, followed quickly by her cheeks. They'd been in enough deserts together for Clint to be familiar with that.

"Yeah, we could do that," Clint replied. "I'm driving, though. Some of those roads are pretty narrow and I'd rather not fall off a cliff into the ocean."

"I drive just fine," Natasha protested.

"If by 'just fine,' you mean like a mad Russian, sure..."

Natasha made a derisive noise. "Don't make me wish I'd brought my weapon." Her cell phone started to ring. She grabbed it and without sitting up or even looking at it, tossed it onto Clint's towel. "Find out who it is and tell them to leave me the hell alone."

Clint adjusted his sunglasses and squinted at the caller ID, dim in the bright sunlight. "It's Stark."

"Oh." Natasha didn't move. "Tell him to leave me the hell alone."

Clint didn't really care whether Tony Stark knew they were on vacation together or not or what conclusions he might jump to because of it. They were adults. He could have just let it go to voicemail, but there was something more satisfying about the idea of telling Tony off in person. He picked up, answering with, "The world had better be at stake, Stark."

"Well, hello, lover boy." Tony sounded amused. "I thought I'd called Ms. Romanoff, but you'll do."

"She's indisposed," Clint said. "So am I."

"Then why did you pick up the phone?"

It was a fair question, technically, but Clint wasn't going to play games. "Tell me what you want or I'm hanging up."

"Well." Tony sniffed. "Here I am, trying to be a nice guy, figuring out if you two want to share a floor in the new tower or have separates..."

"You're still on that kick?" Clint asked.

"Best. Idea. Ever," Tony countered.

Either that, or the worst. Clint wasn't sure. "We'll be back in town at the end of the week. Goodbye."

"But you're missing all the fun!"

"Bet we're not." Clint sighed. "If you're so bored, call Rogers."

"Riiiiiiight." Tony sighed. "Anyway, that's the fun. Our esteemed captain and his old girlfriend – and I do mean that literally – are all over the tabloids. It's delightful."

"Because it's not you?" Clint guessed.

"Hey, every time I'm in the tabloids, my stocks go up."

"How very interesting. Goodbye." Clint hung up, tossing Natasha's phone back to her. It landed perfectly on her well-toned abs.

"What'd he want?" Natasha murmured, grabbing her phone and stuffing it in her bag without getting up.

"Who knows?" Clint shrugged. "But you want to know what _I _want to know?"

"What's that?"

Clint leaned forward. "Are you a natural redhead or not?"

She still didn't move. "As far as you know, yes."

Clint didn't let that deter him. "What I mean is, do the carpets match the drapes?"

That got her to move the hat away from her face. She smiled seductively and beckoned him closer. When he got close enough for her to whisper in his ear, she growled, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Clint grinned. "When do I get to find out?"

Natasha didn't answer, she just pulled her hat back into place and flipped over to sun her back.

"Nat?" Clint asked, knowing she was enjoying screwing with him. "_Nat_?" He sighed and settled back onto his own towel. "You sure do know how to leave a guy out in the cold."

Though her face was turned away, Clint would have sworn she was smiling as she said, "They don't call me the Black Widow for nothing."

* * *

It had been three glorious weeks since Steve and Peggy had been reunited, and Steve didn't care how many papers had the story wrong. Once the different between tabloids and actual news media had been explained to him, he figured anyone who actually bought into the stories the tabloids reported – often conflicting ones – wasn't worth worrying about. He didn't have the obsessive need Tony had to keep up with every story reported about him, anyway.

Various places debated the age difference between Steve and his love, some saying it didn't really matter because he wasn't actually as young as he looked, some finding it strange. Some were just tasteless. Steve was too happy to let any of it bother him, and Peggy blew it off with a wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes. Her beautiful eyes. Time had taken its toll on her body, but her eyes hadn't changed a bit from what Steve remembered.

Some things had to change, naturally. Peggy was adventurous enough to want to give it a shot, but Steve was too nervous to put her on the back of his motorcycle when they went out. So they took the train, or occasionally, Sharon would join them and give them a ride. Sharon kept poking at Steve to ask Tony to borrow one of his many vehicles, but even if Steve had felt confident driving any of them, he wasn't going there. No doubt Tony would make some crack about not letting anyone born before 1960 driving his cars, like he fussed over the electronics when Steve was at his place.

Much to his delight, Steve had discovered that his favorite neighborhood restaurant was still in business, even still operated by the same family. The original owners were long gone, of course, but their children and grandchildren – even some of the great-grandchildren – owned and operated the place. There were pieces of nostalgia from every decade since its opening decorating the walls.

Peggy smiled at Steve while they waited for their order to arrive. "So what's the latest?"

Steve shrugged. "Not much. Tony's still trying to convince us to move in to the tower."

"Us?" she asked, looking a little surprised.

Steve had been surprised, too, and he wasn't sure whether the offer had been extended to entice Steve or because Tony had grown up with Peggy around. She'd provided some delightful stories from Tony's youth, which had been happily filed away in case Steve ever needed blackmail material. "He said us. Guess we'd have our own floor. I don't know." It wasn't the morality of living together, it was more the thought of being in such close quarters with everyone else.

"Sometimes close is too close." Peggy chuckled. "You know how much I love Sharon, but when she offered to let me live at her house...we'd been independent adults for long enough that I knew better. Though I suppose having a separate floor would be different."

"Yeah, it's something to think about...later." Steve could admit that he would feel more comfortable living somewhere that wasn't owned by SHIELD, but he didn't know that Avengers Tower would be the answer.

"You could always live with me," Peggy teased.

Steve laughed. "Might stick out a bit." Sharon hadn't been kidding about the adoring "fangirls" of Avalon Estates. He had run into a few of them and had been happy to take pictures and sign autographs and be thanked endlessly for what he did...he knew that was part of being Captain America and he liked it. He wasn't sure he was up to dealing with that every single day, though. "Don't they have an age limit?" People who didn't know his history never quite believed it when given his actual birth date. He had a feeling he'd been explaining things the rest of his life.

Peggy's eyes sparkled. "Well, they can't blame me for taking up with a gorgeous young man."

Steve took her hand and kissed it. As much as he missed Peggy's youth – not for her looks, but for the time they'd have had together – age hadn't dampened her spirit. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Peggy reached out to brush his cheek with the back of her hand. "Only five times this morning, but I'd love to hear it again." She winked. "You know us old ladies, we forget things."

Steve was more than happy to remind her.

* * *

_In the next chapter, things change – though not necessarily for the better. Thor drops in to help a friend._


	5. I'll Be Seeing You

_A full disclosure warning for this chapter would lessen the impact, but grab some tissues, just in case. Also, in case you hadn't noticed, Tony likes curse words._

* * *

"Status, Jarvis?" Tony asked, fixing his tie in front of the bathroom mirror.

"Dinner is nearly ready, sir, and your guests have started arriving," Jarvis answered. "Ms. Potts is greeting them now."

"Perfect!" Satisfied with his appearance, Tony headed for the elevator and joined the arriving Avengers on the main floor. Pepper was still in the lobby with Natasha and Clint. "My, you're looking well-tanned, Barton." He smirked at Natasha. "You're still too pale. What gives?"

She merely smirked right back at him. "I didn't want my complexion to match my hair."

Tony inclined his head, admitting her point. "Fair enough." The pair had returned from their Hawaiian vacation a little over a week ago, but this was the first night the team's schedules had coincided in free time. At least, it was the first night no one had made excuses for why they couldn't get together. Except for Banner, who was saving orphans in Bulgaria, and Thor, who was still worlds away. It would have been nice to have them there, but it was the first time any more than two of the Avengers had gotten together since Thor returned to Asgard with Loki and the tesseract.

As Pepper and Natasha caught up on pleasantries, Tony moved to the door to meet Steve. "Well, hello, Captain. Glad you could come down from La-La Land to join us."

Steve grinned, not bothering to look the least bit shy about it. "If I didn't know you had a girlfriend, I'd say you were jealous."

"What, me?" Tony rolled his eyes. "Of you? Never." Well, he had been, a little bit, when he was younger, but not for that reason.

"Hey, Cap!" Clint strolled over, reaching out to shake hands with Steve. "What, no Lady America with you tonight?"

Steve's ridiculously all-American smile widened even more, which Tony would have sworn was impossible. "She's out with her niece."

"Mr. Stark, dinner is ready," Jarvis said.

"Thank you, Jarvis." Tony always got a kick out of watching Steve react to Jarvis' voice coming out of nowhere. He'd get used to it eventually, but in the meantime, Tony was thoroughly amused. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, you heard him. Let's eat."

* * *

The conversation was far more enlightening compared to the last meal the Avengers had shared. Of course, then, their energy reserves were such that their choices were limited to talking or eating. Tony had been looking forward to dinner as a team-building exercise, and though he wished they had the whole team, he wasn't disappointed. He certainly wasn't bored – the business of being Tony Stark kept him reasonably busy day-to-day – but he missed the feeling of camaraderie he got from being with these people. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, of course. He could function fine without them; it just so happened he enjoyed having them around. And, as much as they'd laughed at him, the idea of Avengers Tower sounded like it would be like his college days all over again, except without frat boys puking in his shoes.

"Pepper likes it here," Tony pointed out over the after-dinner cocktails. "Don't you, Pepper?"

Pepper's smile was dazzling. "I do. It's very nice."

Tony nodded. "See? And it'll be even better after we finish remodeling. We've got lots of ideas. Enhanced work-out center, Hulk-proof rooms, shooting range, the works."

"And in return, all we have to do is put up with you?" Natasha asked. Tony was only half-sure that she was joking.

"It's not like we're sharing an _apartment_," Tony reminded them. "Everyone would have their own space, and plenty of it. Labs galore. Bright, shiny things. It's gonna be great." They didn't look swayed, so he shrugged. He hadn't expected their minds to change right away. "At least think about it. If the world needs us, we'll be here."

Clint took a long sip of his drink. "Don't get me wrong, it sounds all right...but don't you think we'd all drive each other crazy?"

It was the most valid argument against cohabitation. "I think we covered this already, but if you haven't noticed, none of us is quite right in the head."

"What about Banner and Thor?" Steve asked. "They're a little out of touch."

Tony waved a hand at him. "Minor complications. We'll find them. After all, I have the power of Stark Industries at my disposal. I can make things happen." He finished off his drink and set the glass aside. "All I'm saying is, give it some thought. Nothing has to happen right away. Pepper and I don't _mind_ having an entire skyscraper to ourselves, to make out wherever we please-" Pepper's napkin hit him in the face. "Okay, I deserved that."

He hadn't been expecting any solid yeses, but none of them were rejecting the idea out of hand like before. It was progress.

* * *

The super-soldier serum had left Steve immune to alcohol and most medications, but despite the assumptions of many people at SHIELD, it did nothing to reduce his need for sleep. They just assumed that because he hardly ever slept. Insomnia had been his constant companion since awakening after the ice, which was okay because sleep meant dreams and dreams usually meant nightmares. Unfortunately, Steve didn't have the options someone like Tony or Bruce Banner did; he didn't have a lab to play in. So he worked out. Maybe it didn't yield creative results, but it helped keep his body in top condition.

After returning to his apartment after Tony's dinner, Steve had called Peggy to make sure she'd gotten in all right. They talked for a bit, he told her he loved her, she said she loved him, and the warm glow of their conversation carried over for the next few hours. But the late nights always got lonely, because it was then Steve thought of the people who hadn't lived long enough to see him again. The people he'd lost before he went under the ice. The tesseract's dangerous power and a sneaking suspicion that Red Skull wasn't gone forever.

Somewhere around five am, Steve's phone started ringing. Not his cell phone, the actual land line. Only the people who knew him best called that one; everyone else was trying to get him to use the latest and greatest technology. Steve snatched the phone off the receiver, his heart dropping into his stomach when he heard crying on the other end of the line after he answered. "Hello? What's wrong?"

"Steve?" It was Sharon, and Steve's mind immediately began backpedaling, knowing this conversation could never end well.

He wanted to hang up, wished he'd never picked up the phone so he could be ignorant of whatever had happened for a little while longer. But that wasn't in Steve's nature. "It's me. Sharon, what's wrong?"

Sharon had barely gotten out the words, "It's Aunt Peggy," before Steve's world shattered. Logically, he'd known this day would come, but he wasn't ready. He'd never be ready. She was all he had left of his world, the only woman he had ever loved...she was his everything.

Sharon went on, providing the details, but the only thing Steve got out of it was that Peggy had most likely had a stroke in her sleep. She never woke up, but Sharon had been told she hadn't suffered. That was really the only thing that mattered, Steve supposed, but he kept cursing himself that he hadn't been there. Some part of him knew he couldn't have prevented it, but at least he would have been holding her. She wouldn't have been alone.

Somewhere after picking up the phone and getting the news, Steve's legs had given out and he'd landed gracelessly on his butt. He sat, clutching the phone, hoping maybe he'd fallen asleep watching a movie and this was another horrible dream.

"Steve?" Sharon's sobs had calmed slightly, and she sounded concerned. It was for her that Steve pulled himself back, instead of shutting down and zoning out like he so desperately wanted to. In the here and now, the pain was raw, burning, and fierce, but if Sharon needed him, that was where he had to be. "Can I come over?"

"Of course. No, wait." Steve shook his head; his thinking was muddled. "I'll come to you. I don't want you driving like this."

"What, so you can get on that bike of yours?" Sharon countered. "I can't lose you, too."

Steve was sure he could have made it, and part of him didn't care if he didn't, but he couldn't do that to Sharon. "I'll take a cab."

"Okay." Sharon sounded resigned, then her voice hitched. "What the hell are we supposed to do now, Steve?"

Sharon didn't have to remind him that Peggy was the third parent she'd lost. He was touched that she'd included him in her question. He wanted to be gallant and reassuring, but his head was swimming, and he was forced to be honest. "I don't know."

* * *

Part of being a genius was keeping erratic hours. Tony was going over the schematics for windows that would withstand the brute force of a raging Hulk and the sun was just coming up over the horizon when his phone rang.

Minutes later, Tony was in his bedroom, giving Pepper a goodbye kiss and promising he'd see her soon. He didn't provide details, knowing she would rouse and go with him. He didn't want to disturb her; Pepper got only slightly less sleep than he did. She'd kill him later, but he could deal with that.

"You're not taking the suit, are you?" Pepper murmured, only half awake.

"Nope. I'll be back. Promise." Tony kissed her cheek one more time and slipped out of the bedroom. Even though he wanted to crawl back in bed and clutch her tightly.

As the elevator opened at the garage level, it occurred to Tony that he was hit with more emotion upon hearing about Peggy's death than he had been with his own father. That was pretty screwed up. He told himself she'd lived a good life, and at her age, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Not like with his father. But, initially, it stung more. Tony had been so numb toward his father that when Howard had died, he'd moved on quicker than was healthy.

Tony had assured Sharon he was okay to drive, reminding her he had autopilot in all but his vintage cars anyhow. She'd given in, if reluctantly. Guess she must have really wanted him to come. It took a lot for Tony to step outside of his own world, but Sharon was a friend. Steve was...well, if not a friend, a teammate, at least. Besides, Tony was more easily disarmed by crying women than he liked to own up to, as long as he didn't suspect manipulation. He wasn't sure what he could do or even why Sharon wanted _him_, but he couldn't turn her down.

Sharon had told Tony she'd left the door unlocked for him. He immediately thought of all that could go wrong with that plan, but this was not the time to argue with her. Besides, she'd have Steve for protection, and that was one hell of a security package.

Tony made it to Sharon's house in record time and let himself inside. "Sharon?"

"In here," she called from the living room. Tony walked in, finding Sharon and Steve on the couch, his arms around her. She was still crying. His eyes were red and he looked like he might start crying again at any second. Tony had to steel himself. That was really going to freak him the fuck right out, and he knew he was a lesser man for it, but it was what it was. It wasn't that men-don't-cry bullshit. It was _Steve_, Captain America, and...okay, probably part of it was that men-don't-cry bullshit or it wouldn't have put fear in Tony's heart the way it did. Sharon, he could handle. His alliance with Steve, however, was too new and uncertain to be tested too harshly.

Tony had his own feelings to reckon with, too. Given what Steve and Sharon had lost, he felt like he had no claim to Peggy, but he did have some. She had been an ally in his childhood and he'd had too few. She had been his father's friend, and that just brought up all the weird and conflicting feelings Tony had about his father. Tony couldn't put a name to what he felt, and he wished he could just file it away and let Jarvis take care of it. Algorithms, his father had taught him, but never how to deal with feelings.

"Thank you for coming." Steve's voice was rough and emotional, and wasn't he just the eternal Boy Scout, thinking of manners at a time like this.

Tony tried to shrug it off. "Hey, I was up."

Sharon gave him a look that was fond, but clear she wasn't buying it. She wriggled an arm free from Steve's embrace and reached out to Tony. She looked a lot like Tony imagined those orphans Banner was trying to save might. Of course, she _was_ an orphan, and now she'd suffered one more loss.

Then there was Steve. He'd resigned himself to assuming everyone he'd known was dead, then he found out the one who mattered most was still alive. As much as Tony had kidded him over the age difference, he'd been happy they found each other. A part of Tony had wondered if Peggy had lived so long simply because she was too stubborn to quit until her captain came home. An even more uncomfortable part of Tony asked him how he'd feel if he ever lost Pepper, and he quickly told that part to shut up, because the question alone scared the hell out of him.

And, so, with a swirl of emotions in his head, and at a loss for any other way he could possibly help, Tony stepped forward and allowed himself to be pulled into a group hug.

* * *

Pepper had called around eight, chided Tony over the phone for not waking her, and come right over. Tony was grateful, because Pepper could mother Steve. He needed someone he didn't have to be strong for and someone who had nurture in their nature.

Steve had pushed past the tears, but now he had a blank look about him. His eyes were haunted. Tony had one automatic solution to this feeling in himself. He sat down next to Steve as Pepper was hugging Sharon. "Forget what time it is. Why don't you two come back to my place? Full bar, always open."

"I can't get drunk," Steve muttered miserably.

"Wow, that's gotta _suck,_" Tony said before he could stop himself. "Xanax?"

"What?" Steve asked.

Tony shook his head. "Never mind. That probably wouldn't work, either." Besides the fact that Steve would be too wholesome and pure to take it if he knew what it was.

There was a rumble of thunder in the distance, and out the picture window of Sharon's living room, the weather looked clear. Tony shrugged, then wondered...but, no. He couldn't go the rest of his days wondering if every thunderclap meant something.

And then there was a knock on the door.

"Son of a bitch," Tony murmured. "I'll get it." Sure enough, it was Thor. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I sensed a friend needed me," Thor answered.

"Well, you got that right." Tony shrugged, then frowned. "How'd you find this place?" When Thor gave him a look that suggested it should have been obvious, Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. God. Forgot."

"Until the Bi-Frost is repaired, the All-Father has limited energy to send me to Midgard, but I insisted." Thor stepped inside as Tony gestured.

Tony had only beat Sharon to the door by a few seconds, and she regarded Thor, a little entertained and a little confused. "That's quite a trip you made."

"For a fellow warrior, no journey is too arduous." Thor took Sharon's hand and kissed it ever-so-gently. "My heart is with you, dear lady."

"Um, thanks?" Sharon didn't seem to know what to think.

Steve had wandered in, no doubt because Thor's voice tended to carry. "Thor. Hello." He had little time to react before Thor lunged forward and pulled him off his feet into a bear hug. "Mrph." At least that was what the noise he made sounded like to Tony.

This sympathy party was certainly the most fucked-up one Tony had ever been a part of...but he was finding it strangely therapeutic. He was sure Steve would agree, once Thor let him breathe again.

And a part of Tony wondered if maybe he shouldn't have been the guy hugging Steve first.

* * *

_Next – Steve tries to cope, the Avengers come together for their Captain, and Sharon's boss has a strange way of showing he cares._


	6. Moving On, Together

The next few days were a blur for Steve, but somehow he managed to get from place to place, help Sharon with the arrangements, and do everything that was expected of him. People commented on how well he was holding up and he thought they were crazy. Sharon confessed people said the same about her and she thought the same thing.

"Almost every single thing in my life that's not classified is still unbelievable," Sharon said, leaning up against Steve as they hid from the world in her living room the night before the funeral. All the plans were made, everything was done. All they had to do was keep themselves together long enough to get through it. "Freaking out is not in my nature. So I guess it looks like I've got it together – but, really, I feel like I'm a mess."

Steve shifted position, tightening his arm around her shoulder. "You're not a mess. You've been amazing."

"I couldn't have done it without you," Sharon insisted.

"Of course you could have." Steve squeezed Sharon's hand.

"No, I mean it." Sharon pulled away a little, looking at him directly. "I don't know what I'm doing here. She told me what she wanted and I try to make it happen. Weird, isn't it? I've rappelled off a helicarrier into places most sane people wouldn't step foot in, but when it comes to the shitty parts of normal-people lives, I'm out of my league."

Steve smiled wearily. "I'm hardly the best person to judge that. I don't even know what normal life _is_ anymore."

Sharon settled back against him. "Well, we made it this far."

They certainly had, though Steve wasn't sure how he'd done it. The world was already difficult enough for him to navigate without being thrown curve balls. He wouldn't change a thing about the last month, however. As much as it hurt to lose Peggy so soon after finding her, it had been worse before, when he thought he'd never have a chance. Seventy years ago, she had guided him and, most of all, believed in him. In recent days, she'd provided welcome familiarity in a bewildering world. And now he had to move on. At least he wasn't alone. If he could survive the funeral without falling apart, he knew he stood a chance.

"Tony told you about the thing at his place, right?" Sharon asked.

Steve nodded. Tony had been doing his best to help them out, which at first seemed uncharacteristically nice to Steve, but he'd managed to move past that and be grateful. One of the first things Tony volunteered to do was host a wake after the funeral.

_"We'll give her a first-class send-off," _Tony had said._ "You know me...when you don't know what else to do, have a party." _He'd tried to shrug it off, but Steve saw right through him and was touched by the offer. It was going to be a small, private affair, which made it a safe haven from the media. Sharon was Peggy's only surviving relative, and Steve knew she'd invited some of his friends for support – but outside of the Avengers, he didn't really have any friends left in this century.

"Are any of your friends coming?" Steve asked after the companionable silence between them began to get awkward.

Sharon chuckled, but there was little humor in it. "Not exactly. I'm a workaholic. I don't have friends who aren't SHIELD friends. Except maybe Tony, and he and I managed to go fifteen years without crossing paths."

"Sounds lonely," Steve observed.

"Well, when you put it that way..." Sharon shrugged. "It's by my choosing. The fewer people you know, the fewer you have to keep secrets from."

"I guess that's true." It made a kind of sense when Steve looked at it from that perspective. He couldn't say he wouldn't have made the same decision. There had been no down time for him after the serum; the only people he spent any time with were comrades. So maybe his life wasn't really so different.

Sharon looked contemplative for a long moment. "Fury's kind of freaking me out, though. I know I just said I don't freak out, but...it's weird."

Just hearing Fury's name put Steve on the defensive. "What's he up to now?"

"I don't know," Sharon said. "Maybe nothing. Maybe he's _actually_ being nice. I mean, he knew Aunt Peggy, too. But...Nick Fury does not _do_ nice. First, he tells me he wouldn't be annoyed if I wanted to ask for longer than the standard week off. I know that doesn't exactly sound like warm and fuzzy, but that's practically a _hug_ in his language."

"What else did he do?" Steve asked, now genuinely curious.

"I can't prove it was him," Sharon replied, "but I think he slipped me Dr. Banner's email address. I don't know if you know, but he's been like a mother tiger about his Avengers Initiative. I only ever had access to your files, no one else's. Not that I cared; I didn't need to know. But I was going through the SHIELD directory when I was informing everyone I'd be on leave...and suddenly Banner's name was under my contacts. I had _just_ sent an email to Barton and Romanoff about the thing at Tony's."

"At least that part's probably a coincidence," Steve allowed, "unless Fury's reading your emails."

"Well, of course he reads my emails," Sharon said, as if it were simple fact. "He reads everyone's emails."

"He does?" Steve would have been outraged, but after having spent time with Fury, he was strangely unsurprised.

"Yeah." Sharon nodded. "If you don't want him to know about it, don't send it in a SHIELD email."

"I'll keep that in mind." Steve still used email sparingly at best, but he made a mental note _not_ to use the one SHIELD had provided him with. "So have you heard from Banner?" He wondered how the doctor was doing.

Sharon shook her head. "I didn't really expect to. I don't know if he even _has_ email access where he is. But it was something, finding him. Maybe our fearless leader has a heart after all."

"Maybe." Steve was surprised at the cynical side of himself that found the notion hard to believe. He supposed he was still bitter about the way Fury had manipulated him and his team. "Is that eye patch of his for real or does he just do that for style?"

"Oh, it's real." Sharon smiled, as if at a memory. "Shrapnel injury from World War II."

"World War II?" Steve echoed, surprised. That was his territory.

"Oh, yes." Sharon cocked her head at Steve. "I sense there is much you do not know about Fearless Leader."

This, Steve couldn't miss – if nothing else, it was a distraction from his raw grief. "Enlighten me."

"Okay," Sharon agreed. "I'm not even supposed to know as much as I do, but I used to eavesdrop on Aunt Peggy and Mr. Stark's conversations when Tony went off to play with his robots. There was another serum floating around in those days. Not as all-powerful as yours, but it was nothing to laugh at..."

* * *

The funeral had been lovely, a tasteful, fitting tribute to a war hero. Tony had not been at all surprised to find it was standing room only. There were people who knew of her efforts during the war, SHIELD employees, and people in her community. Funerals in general pretty much sucked, but as far as they went, this one had been nice. Tony was far more interested in the wake, where he could personally keep an eye on Steve and Sharon without having to wait in line while strangers expressed their condolences.

Tony had left it up to Sharon and Steve to invite whomever they saw fit, but he wasn't entirely surprised when the only ones who showed up were his fellow Avengers, minus Bruce. Sharon made no secret that she wasn't a social butterfly and Steve hadn't been in the modern world all that long.

Tony finished pouring the drinks and motioned everyone over to the bar for a toast. He had Jarvis pipe in some mellow jazz to set the mood, and normally he hated mellow jazz. As everyone took their drinks, Tony held up his. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered to salute an American hero." He knew how to schmooze, but he wasn't doing that this time. He wanted to do things right for Peggy – and more importantly, for the people she'd loved. "If only we could all have the faith that she did."

* * *

Steve was doing his best to take care of Sharon, with Pepper's help, and his team was doing their best to take care of him. The group had retired to the overstuffed and oversized couches surrounding Tony's favorite private bar – he had several. What was money if you couldn't use it?

Thor was busy regaling the assembled with tales of the glories that awaited loyal warriors in the Asgardian afterlife when Jarvis announced another visitor.

Tony sighed. "I told you, direct the press to the pre-recorded message. They each don't need a personalized sound-byte."

"It's Dr. Banner, sir."

At Jarvis' announcement, everyone sat up a little bit. Steve and Sharon exchanged a look that Tony would have to get to the bottom of later, but everyone looked pleasantly surprised. "Well, then, what are you waiting for, Jarvis? Send him up!"

Bruce Banner stepped off the elevator a few minutes later. "Sorry I'm late, but my connecting flight in Madrid was delayed for hours." He moved to hug Steve, who smiled – not his usual mega-watt smile, but it was an improvement. Steve introduced Bruce to Sharon moments before Sharon hugged Bruce tightly. Handshakes and more hugs – yeah, Thor was pretty huggy for a dignified demi-god – went around the room.

Tony smiled as he shook Bruce's hand. "Welcome back to civilization."

"Thank you," Bruce said, "but Bulgaria isn't exactly a lost world. I had Internet." He glanced over toward Steve. "As soon as I got Sharon's email, I had to come."

That was interesting. "How'd she get your email address? You didn't give _me_ your email address."

"I don't know." Bruce spread his hands out in front of him. "I guess things just happen when they need to."

Tony moved toward the bar. "That's an infuriatingly calm position to take."

"And, given my history, is that really a problem for you?" Bruce asked.

Tony pretended to think about it. "Nah, guess not. What'll you have to drink?" Though the circumstances most assuredly could have been better, it was good to have the team back together again.

* * *

_Next time we meet – Steve moves in with Tony and has never seen a more complicated coffee maker in his life. Sharon explains why Nick Fury refuses to use the copiers in the Baxter Building anymore._


	7. Where the Abnormal is Normal

_Thank you all so much for all the alerts, favs, and reviews! They make me so happy and give me so many ideas._

* * *

Steve had been the first one to lose his mind and move into Stark Tower. At least he was pretty sure he'd lost his mind.

Over the past month, Steve had been gradually caving toward Tony's frequent requests about living together. In the end, the loneliness of living by himself in a strange new world had given him the final push. The actual move wasn't difficult, especially considering Steve didn't have very many possessions. But on his first evening in his new home, it occurred to Steve that he had just put himself in what was probably the most technologically advanced building in New York City. All he wanted was a cup of coffee and even _that _couldn't be simple.

Steve didn't drink coffee the way others on his team – especially Tony – did, near constantly. Once a day and he was pretty much set. The caffeine did nothing for him, thanks to the serum, and Steve hadn't found any coffee that tasted fabulous enough he had to have it all day long. Tony had insisted he'd found the perfect coffee maker for such a situation. Steve hoped that was what he was looking at, because otherwise he didn't have any idea _what_ the thing did.

"'All you have to do is push a button,' he says," Steve muttered to himself. He had no idea where the coffee was, either, but that was okay, because he couldn't fathom where it was going to go. There was water, but no filter, and the display kept flashing different shapes and sizes of cups at him. There was a strange word on the front, which matched boxes with pictures of coffee on the front – but all that was inside the boxes was tiny plastic cups.

Steve's first thought was that he didn't really want the coffee after all; it wasn't worth the effort. But he knew if he was going to be a part of this world, he couldn't run from its gadgets forever. "Jarvis?" He still found the computer disarming, but it was better than going to Tony.

"Yes, sir?"

"How does this thing work?" Steve played with a lever on the front and a compartment popped open. "And you're going to need to be a little more descriptive than 'press a button.'"

* * *

"So how's Steve settling in?" Pepper asked as she walked into Tony's lab.

"Great, as far as I know," Tony said. "I was going to go check on him later. I haven't heard from him."

Pepper smiled. "That doesn't mean he doesn't need help."

"Maybe," Tony allowed, "but it _does_ mean he hasn't blown anything up."

Pepper laughed at that. "Of the two of you, who do you think is honestly more likely to cause an explosion?"

She had him there. "Okay, fine, I'll check on him. Just let me finish this simulation." He reached out with one arm, beckoning Pepper closer so he could hook his arm around her waist. "If my calculations are correct – and they probably are – I may have just improved upon SHIELD's theory surrounding Hulk-proof glass." Bruce had returned to Eastern Europe, but Tony had at least got him to consider relocating to New York. Apparently, Sofia, Bulgaria had been a good middle ground between New York City and Calcutta.

"Interesting." Pepper watched the computer screen as a small, animated Hulk rampaged, leaving only a crack on the surrounding area. Tony had programmed that into the simulation simply to amuse himself. "What's with the skintight purple pants?"

"Really, is that all you noticed?" Tony asked. "Women and fashion, sheesh. Anyhow, as you can see, I've nearly perfected this. And, since you asked, the purple is for fun."

Pepper nuzzled Tony's neck for a minute before reminding him, "You still need to check on Steve."

"Oh, fine." Tony wanted to take her snuggling a step further – they still had time before dinner – but he knew he had to take care of Steve before that would happen. Pepper was such a mother hen. And, honestly, Tony did want to keep an eye on Steve. He just had to pretend it was Pepper's idea to maintain his facade of ambivalence. "With any luck, I'll stop him before he tries to load a DVD into the Keurig."

"You gave him a Keurig?" Pepper asked.

Tony wasn't planning to insulate Steve from modern amenities forever. "Yes. He only ever drinks one cup at a time anyhow. I don't know how he functions, honestly, but whatever. I left him all the pieces. Cups, sugar, Coffeemate...he'll figure it out."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "You know, it's not nice to leave him without instructions just for your amusement as he messes with things."

"Relax, it's not like I'm videotaping him." Tony headed for the elevator, Pepper following. "It'll do him good to piece things together. Builds confidence. Besides, I couldn't video it even if I wanted to. We agreed not to use Jarvis to spy on each other, remember?" They had to have some ground rules, after all.

"That shouldn't have to even be a rule, you know," Pepper pointed out, "but knowing you..."

When they arrived on the fifty-third floor, where Steve had set up residence, he had seemed to figure out the coffee maker, but he was eying the Coffeemate container warily.

"It's not going to bite you," Tony promised.

Steve took a sip from the mug in his hand, making a face. "This powdered milk tastes funny."

"Well, that would make sense, considering it's not actually milk," Tony told him. "Not even dairy, actually."

"Oh." Steve looked like he wasn't sure what to think.

Tony had mercy on him. "Here, let me officially show you around." He glanced at Pepper, who nodded approvingly. It would fill the time before they had dinner together, but he would be able to find time with Pepper after. Plus it reduced the odds that Steve would call him for help at an inconvenient time.

And somewhere down deep, Tony was beginning to acknowledge that he actually wanted to help Steve figure this world out.

* * *

Steve looked out the window of Sharon's car and up at the Baxter Building before they pulled into the garage. "This week is just full of bad ideas."

Sharon grinned. "Hey, you can stay in the car if you want. I'm only going to be a few minutes, but I thought you wanted to meet my infamous clientele." She had told Steve quite a few stories of the Fantastic Four, and between that and Tony's insistence that Steve had to meet Johnny Storm "to see if it causes a paradox," Steve had gotten curious. He happened to be having lunch with Sharon when she mentioned she needed to go back to work to pick up her spare laptop. She told them when she called she was with a friend.

"Well, I do, but are you sure they aren't going to mind?" Steve asked.

"Mind?" Sharon laughed. "Steve, you're _Captain America_. They want to meet _you_." She parked the car and was met by a robot. It was kind of a cute robot, Steve thought. Sharon didn't bat an eye. "Hi, H.E.R.B.I.E."

"Ms. Carter. I'll tell Dr. Richards you've arrived."

Steve watched in the direction the robot was speeding off. "It's name is Herbie?"

"Yeah, he's practically the family pet. It's short for Humanoid Experimental Robot, B-type," Sharon explained. "I told you, Reed Richards and Tony Stark spent a long time vying for the position of most eccentric genius in New York. I'm not sure the race is off yet. Trust me, since I've been Dr. Richards' admin assistant, I've seen some strange things."

"I don't doubt it." Steve chuckled. "Do they know...?"

"Who I work for?" Sharon guessed. Steve nodded. "Officially, not so much, but I'm pretty sure they've figured it out. They don't say anything, though, and so I pretend I don't know they know. It all works out. They know about SHIELD. Anyone with known superpowers does, unless SHIELD has some reason for them not to."

"Guess it's good to know you're being watched," Steve reasoned. He was still a little uncomfortable with the concept, but he understood the need for such an organization.

A smiling blonde woman met them in the lobby as they stepped off the elevator. "Sharon!" She immediately extended a hand to Steve. "Captain Rogers. It's an honor to meet you. I'm Sue Richards."

Steve smiled "It's a pleasure, ma'am."

Sue looked at Sharon, her expression amused. "Stark wasn't kidding about the resemblance. I'd seen the news clips, but it's really something."

"I know," Sharon said. "They say everyone has a twin, I guess. Is Johnny here?"

Sue shook her head. "No, you just missed him. I chased him out of here after he tried to make grilled cheese in the living room again." She rolled her eyes. "The kitchen is _ten_ _steps_ away...honestly. You know I love my brother, but he's...well, he's just Johnny." Sharon had mentioned that Sue had pretty much raised her brother, and she certainly seemed maternal, even when complaining about him.

After meeting the rest of the team, Steve could certainly see why Sharon was fond of but entertained by them. Reed Richards was a perfect fit for the part of mad scientist, socially awkward but with a good heart. Ben Grimm was kind and his Lower East Side accent suited him perfectly. They'd all seemed honestly delighted to meet Steve, and though he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with fame, he found it charming.

"So, what'd you think?" Sharon asked as they settled back into her car.

Steve gave her his immediate first impression. "They're good people. I can see how they wanted to back out of the spotlight and just be themselves."

Sharon nodded. "I really don't blame them. I know Ben and Johnny are itching to get back into the action, but if there's one thing being at SHIELD has taught me, the time will come. I keep telling them to enjoy it while it lasts. There are still things out there, and one day, we're going to need all the superheroes we can get."

Steve wondered if she actually knew about something or was speaking metaphorically, and he was just about to ask when Sharon's phone rang.

Sharon tapped her wireless headset. "Sharon Carter." She smiled. "Oh, hi, Director. I just left, actually. I'll print out the file tonight and it'll be on your desk in the morning." She bit her lip after a moment, the way she did when she was trying to keep from laughing. "I'll make sure to make copies at my place. Okay. Carter out." She tapped the headset again and burst into laughter. "Oh, God, I love my boss."

"What's so funny?" Steve asked.

Sharon had managed to calm herself to a mild case of the giggles. "He's positively phobic about the copiers at the Baxter Building. Ever since..." Her eyes lit up. "Oh, I didn't tell you about this one. Ben got word that he'd come into a lot of money, and between that thought and the next, he decided to photocopy his ass and send it to Bill Gates – he's a big name computer guy. Director Fury happened to walk in at the wrong moment, and...he won't touch the copiers since."

It was so absurd Steve nearly didn't believe it...but some things couldn't be made up. It was hard to imagine a man made of rock even managing such a feat. "I don't even want to know what that must have looked like."

"A lot like the Grand Canyon, I'm told." Sharon dissolved into helpless giggles again. It occurred to Steve that this was the first time she'd honestly laughed since Peggy died. It was the first time _he'd_ laughed – and as poignant as it was, Steve knew it was a good sign. She would have wanted them to be happy.

They were moving in the right direction.

* * *

_Coming soon – Bruce concludes that the Avengers require adult supervision, Thor returns from a visit with Jane, and flight is apparently **not **__one of Captain America's super powers._

_Oh, and the incident with the copier was drafted from one of JMS' runs on Fantastic Four. I really, truly could not help myself. If he and Joss did anything together in the Avengers universe, it would explode from awesome._


	8. Left Unsupervised

Steve had inadvertently started a trend.

A little less than two weeks after Steve moved into Tony's building, Clint and Natasha came by for lunch. Clint glanced around the lobby, shrugged, and said, "Nice place. We'll take it." Tony had offered them the fifty-first and fifty-second floors. They had moved in the next day. Apparently, neither of owned much of anything, either, and they'd both been living in SHIELD-furnished quarters. And, so, Stark Tower had become Avengers Tower. Which really worked out quite well, because Tony had gotten fond of the single A remaining in the original sign and left it that way.

The fifty-first and fifty-second floors weren't actually separated by a full ceiling. They were completely functional independently, but the fifty-second floor was set up as a loft of the fifty-first. That had been part of Pepper's twelve percent, as all the floors in the fifties had been designed as high-end real estate and she thought it would be a potential draw for big clients. Also, it was aesthetically pleasing. Tony hadn't at first been sure how Pepper would react to the thought of pretty much giving away salable square footage, but she had shrugged and said they could always build another tower full of apartments and the office space in the lower twenty-five floors was selling like hotcakes anyway, even after the tower's name change. Tony had been a little surprised when Pepper had so quickly supported his idea of the Avengers living together, but she seemed to have her reasons and he'd learned not to over-question a good thing. Thus, four out of the six were under the same roof, and Tony told himself it was only a matter of time until he broke down the other two.

* * *

Clint had taken the upper loft, to the shock of absolutely no one.

Though she loved the design, Natasha didn't spend a lot of time using the spiral staircase that connected her floor to Clint's. He preferred to rappel off the landing. Which was fun most of the time, unless he decided it was time for a impromptu sparring match, the goal of which he claimed was to teach Natasha to never, ever allow herself to be taken by surprise. Then he pretty much was death from above. Natasha was bruised all over by the end of the first week, but she'd gotten better at getting out of the way. And she'd left more than a few marks on Clint's body to thank him for his trouble.

Though each of the residential floors had their own kitchen, there was also a larger, communal one with a dining room on the fifty-fifth floor, with the latest and greatest of everything. Unless any of them had other plans, the four Avengers and Pepper typically met for dinner. The fifty-fifth floor also had the enhanced gym and a luxurious community room with all possible amenities, so it was a common gathering place anyway.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Guess who's coming to visit next week?" Tony asked as the group lingered in the dining room after dinner.

"Your great aunt Hilda?" Clint grinned cheekily.

Tony rolled his eyes. "I do not even _have_ a great aunt, never mind one named Hilda. Nah, it's Bruce."

"How'd you talk him into that?" Natasha asked. "I thought he was pretty well tied to his work with all those kids."

"Me too," Tony said, "but I guess he stumbled upon some corruption among Yerevan's civil servants, and I might have taken advantage of his disenchantment to suggest he could work with needy kids here. It'd be great PR. He's positively paranoid about his alter ego flattening Brooklyn Heights or something, but at least Eastern Europe got him used to living in civilized places again."

Natasha wouldn't have automatically described all of Eastern Europe as civilized, but she was prejudiced by her experiences. The major cities weren't so bad, and Natasha knew they were the ones most open to working with Americans. She pretty much tried to avoid thinking about orphanages anywhere in that region, though; some wounds were best left unopened. "Kids love the Hulk. He'd be a hit." She knew first-hand how destructive the Hulk could be, but she also knew that the more control Bruce had over his rage, the more control he had over the Hulk. Bruce had always made it clear he would be rid of the Hulk forever if he could find a way, but Natasha was dubious that a cure would be found – and she wasn't sure that was the answer if one was. Everyone had their dark side. She knew that better than anybody. The trick was to own it, rather than letting it run the show.

"I admire his dedication to bettering the world," Steve said, looking so earnest it should have been criminal. Natasha was pretty sure even _he_ had dark secrets, but damned if she knew where he hid them. "It's a noble cause. But I do agree we could use him here. Just because nothing's happened yet is no reason to get complacent."

"Fucking hell, let's not ever get complacent." Tony shuddered dramatically. "Loki and his alien armada were bad enough and we were _expecting_ shit to go down."

Natasha raised her glass in Tony's direction. "Seconded."

"Any objections?" Tony asked, mirroring her gesture. "No? Good. The motion carries. God, I love being a team."

"We're still two short," Natasha pointed out. "Have we heard anything from Thor?"

"He said he'd be back after he spent some time with his friend Jane," Pepper said. "He seems quite fond of her."

Tony grinned. "Jane and Thorzan."

Pepper shook her head. "You really cannot help yourself, can you?"

"Not one bit." Tony poured himself another glass of wine and passed the bottle down the table. "So! Who's up for movie night?"

If they could all agree on the same movie, it would be a team-building exercise of its own. It actually sounded like a good idea, despite the fact that Natasha had a few pulled muscles she should have been icing.

* * *

"Captain Rogers?"

Steve groaned, tempted to pull his pillow over his head, but that wouldn't have done any good. He didn't sleep often, and he was pretty sure he hadn't been asleep all that long. "What is it, Jarvis?" As leery as he was of computers, he especially didn't like one waking him up.

"Agent Carter is on the line for you," Jarvis replied. "Shall I put her through?"

Steve sat up. He cared little for Jarvis' telephone interface, the standard method for calls received at any extension in the Avengers Tower. It just seemed so intrusive. But it was a good way to avoid missing important calls. "Oh...yes. Please." His cell phone rang as Jarvis transferred the call and he snatched it up. "Sharon?"

"Steve." Sharon sounded a little off, and it got Steve's attention quickly. "I tried to call you directly, but you didn't pick up."

Steve didn't want to tell her she woke him up, so he moved past that. "What's wrong?"

"I know you've only got part of the team," Sharon answered, "but you might need to mobilize. Ishtar is back."

That didn't sound good. "Who's that?"

"Unpredictable Babylonian fertility goddess, or – rather, the batshit crazy mutant pretending to be her." Steve had to give Sharon credit; beyond sounding a little distracted, she seemed barely rattled. He had been briefed on the mutant issue, but he'd hoped not to have to put that knowledge to use so soon. "She and her goons were spotted on a SHIELD cam on the Upper West Side. She used to be one of Magneto's, but she was too crazy even for him. She's kind of vengeful, so Fury wants brute force. He's on his way to you; I wanted to warn you first."

"Thanks." Steve didn't doubt Fury wanted to exercise his "project." "You said she's bad. Are we going to need Thor and Banner?"

"I hope not." Sharon sighed. "Technically, there was a truce – a sort of you-leave-us-alone-and-we-won't-nuke-you-into-another-dimension thing. Anyhow. We're pretty sure the Council won't risk another, ahem, incident, but we want to take care of this before it gets out of control."

"Captain Rogers?" Steve knew it had to be his imagination, but he would have sworn Jarvis sounded put-upon. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Colonel Fury is requesting your immediate presence in the briefing room."

"I'm coming." Steve quickly said goodbye to Sharon and headed for the elevator. Despite what the experts said about it not being restful, it was probably good he'd fallen asleep in his clothes.

* * *

"Well, Sharon was right about Ishtar being batshit crazy!" Clint muttered into his radio, perched on the roof of a building of the Central Park West Historic District. Fortunately, most of Ishtar's "goons" were neither fast nor bright and the assembled team had been able to take them out without damaging the area. Good thing, too, considering Manhattan was still rebuilding after the Chitauri. Ishtar was the only one left, and she kept teleporting around.

Natasha had taken cover behind a pillar to pick off the last of Ishtar's gang sniper-style; she came out at a run and headed for the fire escape to back Tony up on the ground. As soon as the Avengers arrived, Ishtar had been focused on them and she kept splitting her attacks. "So she's got Kevlar skin and teleportation," Natasha called as she jumped onto the fire escape and started down at a run. "We can take her."

Clint looked around, watching, his bow ready. He could distract Ishtar, even if his arrows wouldn't injure her. The explosive ones might, but they packed too much of a punch for close quarters. "And a tail that'll give you whiplash. Before she stabs you with it."

Steve tapped his radio. "Tony, Natasha is on her way to you. Seen Ishtar?"

"Clear so far," Tony reported. "I'll yell. Without her backup singers, she's got nothing but that tail. Won't make a dent."

There was a noise behind Steve and he turned in time for a purple tail to snake around his arm. "Found her." He dropped his shield and reached out with his free hand and tried to pull her closer. As long as she had him, he wanted to stall so the others could handcuff her. Fury had assured them the handcuffs Clint carried had some kind of something in them that kept mutants from being able to exercise teleportation powers. Steve hadn't really understood that part.

"Well, hello, my firefly," Ishtar growled. "Pretend you don't know me, like you didn't toy with my emotions."

Clint hustled over, snatching Ishtar's hands and cuffing her. That had been too easy, even after an extended chase. "Got her."

Ishtar merely smiled. "I got what I came for." Her tail tightened on Steve's wrist. "I saw you. New game, new game, you think you can hide from me?"

And they'd thought Loki was insane. At least he'd made some sense. "Ma'am, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Johnny Angel, why won't you _die_?" Lightning fast, she uncoiled her tail and made an attempt to stab Steve with the tip. It bounced off the star on his chest and she hissed, then reared back the tail and swung at Steve before he'd finished processing the thought that she must have had a grudge against Johnny Storm...oh, and she couldn't tell the difference. Steve thought he heard her yell something about flying as he ducked a second too late and her tail caught him in the head and sent him tumbling forward. He blacked out before he realized he had been knocked over the safety railing of a twenty-story building.

* * *

Heroics, Tony had decided long ago, were mostly based on gut reaction. He did his best work when he wasn't thinking about it. Like when he saw Steve take a header off a building.

They all really needed to be equipped with jet packs.

Natasha was still on the fire escape; Clint was on the roof with Ishtar. Their curses screeched in Tony's ear over the radio.

"Jarvis, I need targeting!" Tony was in the air within seconds, trusting the computer to zero him in. He caught Steve somewhere around the fifth floor, the force of the impact sending him off course. Rather than break another building, Tony cut power to the thrusters when he got low enough and dropped the last two stories, taking the impact on his back. It sent a shock wave of pain through Tony's system, but the rough landings _had_ gotten easier with each upgrade.

"Holy fuckballs," Tony gasped when he could breathe again. He sat up once Steve had moved off his chest. "Cap, you okay?"

Steve groaned, his hand going to his chest. He'd been falling pretty fast when he hit Tony's armor. He seemed dazed, but he was breathing and the only blood was from a cut on his head. He slumped against Tony briefly. "Thanks."

"Any time." Tony reconsidered that immediately. "No, on second thought, don't you ever do that again."

"Good plan." Steve was clearly in pain and he looked weary besides. "You know, I've really got to meet this Storm guy."

* * *

Bruce Banner was in a Prague cafe, having lunch with a Slovakian engineer he'd gone to college with, when the world news station aired a clip about American superheroes. He normally ducked his head and pretended not to notice these things, but out of the ten words of Czech he knew, "injured" was one of them. His friend was watching, and he waited until the clip was over to ask, "Emilia, what was that about?" He had seen footage of Iron Man catching Captain America mid-fall, and that alone was enough to make him hold his breath for a moment.

Emilia sighed. "Some crazy purple woman tried to knock your American captain off a building." She looked confused.

"Is he okay?" Bruce asked, failing to keep the alarm out of his tone. Emilia cocked her head at him curiously. "He's actually a friend."

"Oh." She nodded. "They said he broke a couple of ribs." She paused before looking at Bruce doubtfully and asking, "I was only there for school...does this sort of thing happen a lot in your country?"

While Bruce tried to explain, he was beginning to become aware of a part of him that wondered if it might have gone down better with a little green to smash the purple.

* * *

Tony didn't know when Thor had gotten in; he had been out in a business meeting. All he did know was that when he walked into the community room, Thor and Steve were sitting on the couch, watching _Finding Nemo._ And Steve didn't even have being stoned on pain meds to blame it on.

If Tony hadn't felt a little bit sorry for the fact that pain meds didn't touch Steve's serum-enhanced neurons, he'd have taken a picture for blackmail. Instead he sent an email to Bruce, wondering if Bruce had any ideas about the medication problem, and then joined his friends on the couch. It _was_ a pretty good movie.

* * *

Bruce was on a train back to Armenia when he got two nearly simultaneous emails. One was from Tony.

_Brucie! I need to get Steve stoned on Vicodin. Thoughts?_

After a moment, Bruce was able to decipher the meaning behind it; he knew Steve was resistant to alcohol, so narcotics probably didn't have much effect, either. It was touching concern, in a twisted, Stark-esque kind of way.

The second email was from Natasha Romanoff, wondering if he knew any way to rappel upward that wouldn't violate the laws of physics – oh, and it had to be silent.

He began to wonder if Pepper and Steve were the only adults in Avengers Tower. And with Steve recuperating – even at an accelerated rate – Bruce began to wonder if Pepper might need some help.

* * *

_I stayed up way past my bedtime to finish this chapter, because I was so excited about it! Next chapter – bromance in the labs and Steve learns what a meme is._


	9. Discoveries

_I would have gotten this chapter up earlier, but I kind of accidentally went to see Avengers again because I wanted to get Bruce's voice clearer in my head. And now my head is full of voices, most of them bickering with each other. Thank you, Joss Whedon._

_Also – you people rock profoundly. The reviews, alerts, and favs delight me. Thank you. To those who asked about the bromance I mentioned...this is not a slash fic (though they certainly have their times and places!), so it'll all be in the light of the guys being Best Buddies Ever. The romantic pairings for the rest of this fic are limited to Tony/Pepper, eventual Steve/Sharon and a touch of Clint/Natasha. And all the rest of them being Best Buddies Ever._

_I have seriously considered the idea that I may have an Avengers problem._

* * *

"Okay, so here's my secret. I used to watch it all the time, but I've decided now I hate Dancing With the Stars." Tony shook his head, glancing at Bruce over the top of a computer screen. "Bunch of washed-up has-beens. They asked me to be on there once. Turned 'em down flat. I said, 'Actually, I have self-respect, thank you very fucking much."

Bruce chuckled. "Probably just as well. They'd have had to bleep every other word you said in the post-show analysis."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Bunch of prudes. I _think_ in curse words, actually. Betcha didn't know that."

"It's not entirely a shock," Bruce said dryly. Tony's swearing didn't bother him or any of the other Avengers; in fact, Bruce was continually amused by the creative twists Tony put upon any the concept. The only one who outclassed Tony in that category was Natasha, if one bothered to translate the things she muttered to herself. Russians had some really unique curses, most of which involved things being done with animals and/or someone's mother.

"Well, someone has to make up for Steve around here." Tony made a face. "We faced a metric fuckton of Loki's alien buddies and the harshest word he utters is 'bastards.' I mean, really? Who does that? People cursed in the forties!"

It was a frequent topic of their lab conversations, Steve Rogers and his never-ending good-guy image. Tony liked to make a big deal about bitching over it, but Bruce had realized Tony secretly liked it. It was just a part of who Steve was; it was quaint but charming, and it provided an occasionally needed contrast to Tony's larger-than-life persona. "Steve didn't."

"I know, right?" Tony nodded quickly, making pleased noises at his computer screen before getting back to the topic. "My dad always told me about that, how he couldn't believe this guy who led soldiers to the gates of hell and back was pure as the driven snow. I think Dad was a little jealous, actually. That apple-pie goodness could have melted the panties off of even yesterday's women, and he only ever wanted the one." Tony's eyes widened suddenly. "Oh, God. Oh, _God bless America._"

Bruce recognized that look; Tony was having an "aha" moment. "What did you just invent?"

"The man is still a virgin." Tony giggled – actually giggled, and a little hysterically at that.

Bruce laughed and sent a data burst to Tony's console. "You're just now figuring that out?" Bruce was hardly the social being that Tony was, but he realized that much a long time ago.

"Not really, but I just _thought about it_." When Tony was on a kick, he bounced a little on his feet and began to sound like he could have used a healthy dose of lithium. "Oh. That is priceless."

"We don't actually know for sure," Bruce said – and, really, they did, but it was in his nature to play devil's advocate. "I mean, we know he was when he was taken out of deep freeze, but..."

Tony fixed Bruce with a stare. "You're not actually suggesting...no. God, for the love of all that is holy, no. You are not _even_ trying to suggest that he...they... You know what, Banner? You are a sick man."

Bruce was loving Tony's understated outrage and he was playing right into Bruce's hand. "A little wine, a little music, two lonely people with a past..." Steve would probably murder him on the spot if he heard a word of this, but Bruce knew the moment would stay between him and Tony. What happened in the lab stayed there unless it had real-world applications. They could afford to be a bit disrespectful because they both knew no harm was actually meant. It was similar to the camaraderie of siblings. They could mess with each other but no one could mess with them.

Tony put his hands to his ears. "La, la, la, I can't _hear you_!"

Bruce shook his head. "Winding you up is way too easy."

"Fuck you," Tony said cheerfully. "Just for that, I'm making your pants polka-dotted. And girly."

"My pants?" Bruce looked down at his khakis.

Tony pointed to Bruce's console. "Duh, check your shared drive. I put a spin on Richards' work with clothing fibers, so the oh-so-Fantastic Four could actually use their powers without getting arrested for public indecency."

Bruce nodded and began to search for new files. "Right, I'm familiar with the theory." He opened the latest file from Tony and was treated to an animated Hulk GIF with neon purple pants. "Really, Stark?"

Tony grabbed a spare computer stylus from the cup he kept full of them – he was always losing them, it seemed – and threw one at Bruce, who caught it. His reflexes were getting better. "Figures you'd find the Easter egg before the actual number-crunching. Dork."

Bruce tucked the stylus into his shirt pocket and opened another file. "Okay, so you've adapted Richards' fabric to accommodate..." Despite his increasing control, and despite when it had been needed, Bruce was still uncomfortable with the idea of deliberately Hulking out. "Magic pants?"

"Magic pants," Tony confirmed. "So far shreds have managed to stick to you, but, really, you're courting disaster. I, for one, do not _ever_ want to see your dick."

"Don't lie." Bruce was not normally one for juvenile male humor, but for Tony, he could stoop to that level. "You know you want to find out if _everything_ gets big and green, and...throbbing." He cleared his throat and offered his best bedroom eyes, though he knew from experience with ladies that they weren't very convincing.

"You know what? I'm going to send my next therapist bill to you." Tony pointed a finger in Bruce's direction. "First of all, I _invented_ that joke, only it was about Mr. Fantastic and his then-girlfriend. Secondly, do you really enjoy being naked when you de-Hulk?"

"Okay, so maybe the idea has merit," Bruce allowed. A beat, for effect. "But I've checked your browser history. You have every Hulk/Iron Man slash fanfiction out there favorited."

Tony smiled winningly. "Only because they were written by _you_."

"Touche." Bruce took the stylus out of his pocket, re-purposing it for use as a dart. It bounced off of Tony's arc reactor and Tony took great care inspecting the outer casing.

"I'm gonna tell Pepper that you tried to kill me!" Tony insisted in a tone worthy of a damsel in distress.

Bruce merely smirked. Three weeks since he'd moved in. Steve's ribs were well-healed and thus Bruce's excuses for staying were gone. And still, he was there, playing in the labs that were all Tony had promised and more. Occupying the entire fifty-sixth floor of a swanky Manhattan building. And not worrying every living second that people might discover a monster lurked beneath his skin. He still had his rage, but even that seemed easier.

It was getting to be kind of nice, actually.

* * *

It all started innocently enough.

Tony got an email from Pepper, the subject line alone of which was entertaining.

_You owe me royalties!_

Tony opened the email, wondering what she was up to.

_I just realized something. Female. Fe is Iron. Male is man. Therefore, __**I**__ am Iron Man._

_You're welcome._

_Pepper_

Delighted, Tony forwarded it to everyone he knew.

By noon the next day, strangers were posting it on Facebook.

* * *

Email was just strange.

Before the revelation that Nick Fury made a habit of reading SHIELD emails, Steve had used the email address they'd provided him. He sent maybe two emails a day, including replies to messages of note he'd received. Then Tony had set up an email address for Steve, and Steve had been introduced to the world of novelty emails.

Contrary to rumors that Tony had started, Steve actually got most jokes that weren't based on pop culture references. He understood that some people used email as a form of entertainment, but he never felt the need to forward things on, mostly because they had already been sent to everyone he knew.

Steve remembered enough of the periodic table from his high school science class to get the Iron Man joke Pepper had made, but he was surprised to see it again a week later, from Sharon, who'd gotten it from a co-worker. Steve had asked Sharon about it, and she told him the Internet had a way of making silly things famous. Which was obvious from the number of pictures of cats using horrible spelling and nonsense grammar Steve had seen.

If it wasn't important business, any emails from Tony usually were something intended to be funny. Sometimes Steve got it, sometimes he didn't. But this one made him pause, knowing he was being toyed with, but not sure what to do about it.

_Fwd: Zombie Attack_

_Hey, guys, whoever's with Bruce wins!_

_You are one of the few survivors of an attack of rage zombies. The first item you see to your left is your primary weapon. The first item you see to your right is your secondary weapon. The last person you talked to is your companion. How fucked are you? Reply with your results._

_I've got a spangly shield (surprisingly strong), Jarvis' tablet interface, and Pepper. I'm good._

_Good luck,_

_Tony_

Steve was pretty sure Tony was trying to mess with him, but he felt a surge of possessiveness anyway. Tony had borrowed his shield that morning to run tests on it, and while Steve knew Tony wouldn't do anything irreparable, he was rather attached to his shield.

Steve Googled "rage zombies," and skimmed the first page of results. Satisfied with the knowledge that they were a monster movie creation, he pondered his response to the email. He wanted to call Tony and check in, but he suspected that was exactly what Tony _wanted_ him to do.

Steve's email dinged at him and he saw Bruce had responded. Pleased, Steve opened the email, hoping to find a helpful clue.

_Stark, you'd better start running now, because if the zombies don't get you, the Captain will._

_For the record, I have a pen, a view of the New York skyline (lovely), and the editor of a MIT __physics journal. If it weren't for the other guy, I'd be pretty well screwed._

_Bruce_

Steve chuckled appreciatively at the first line, then reviewed the continuation of the joke. He thought he was starting to see how it was supposed to go, but he wasn't entirely confident, so he called Bruce.

"Oh," Bruce murmured, sounding amused. "I keep forgetting that you haven't been properly schooled in memes."

"Memes?" Steve echoed.

"Memes," Bruce said. "Things sometimes strike a whole lot of people as funny, so they send it on. It's called 'going viral.'"

"Like the thing with Pepper." So far, Steve was following.

"Right!" Bruce sounded like the teacher of a particularly bright student, and Steve would have been insulted by that if he didn't know Bruce's mind really was that far ahead of him. "Sometimes, people mimic it and put their own twist on it. That's a meme. There's more out there than you could possibly ever follow, and new ones every day. A lot of them come with instructions, like the one Tony sent out."

"Okay." Steve didn't see the point of the things, but maybe there wasn't one beyond temporary entertainment. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Steve hit "reply all," like he'd been taught to do with emails that needed a reply to go to everyone, and began to type. He had found himself grateful in this century for Mrs. Gilmore's typing lessons when he was younger. Sure, it had been a (now) old-fashioned typewriter, but the idea was similar. Somewhere along the line, Steve had read that typing in all capital letters was supposed to be like yelling, and he deliberately used that to his advantage.

_WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SHIELD?_

_I have a sketch pad, my cell phone, and Bruce._

_I WIN._

_Steve_

Steve sent the email, and within moments, he had a response from Tony.

_Well played, sir._

Steve smiled, then closed his email and headed upstairs to check on his shield.

* * *

_In the next installment, Tony decides that waking everyone up with an air raid siren would probably not end well. Thor discovers Stargate. The legendary Steve Rogers meets legend in his own mind Johnny Storm._


	10. Fire and Ice

Despite some bizarre and frankly worrisome Internet speculation, Tony's arc reactor was indeed waterproof and stood no chance of electrocuting anyone he happened to choose to shower with. Which Pepper was no doubt grateful for.

Tony was in the middle of lathering Pepper's back when Jarvis interrupted. "Sir?"

Tony sighed. "What?"

"The god of thunder has set the kitchen on fire." Jarvis wasn't programmed to convey much emotion, but Tony _had_ given him the capacity to be a smartass when it was called for. Tony was beginning to reconsider the advisability of that now.

"Oh, God." Tony rolled his eyes. "What are you calling me for? Put it out!"

"I already have," Jarvis reported. "The first round of fire-suppressant foam was sufficient. It was only a small fire."

"Well, then why are you bugging me?" Tony asked. "I'm kind of occupied at the moment!"

"You asked to be made aware of all threats to the household," Jarvis reminded him.

So he had. Tony shrugged at Pepper in a what-can-you-do sort of way. "Fine. Thank you, Jarvis. Don't bother me again until I'm out of the shower."

"As you wish, sir."

Pepper laughed softly and turned her back into the shower spray to rinse the soap away. It gave Tony marvelous access to her front, and he immediately returned to the business of getting her clean. "And you said Steve would be the first one to set something on fire."

Tony grinned. "Even geniuses have their off days." Given the welcome distraction in front of him, he couldn't be too put out about it. Even if he did owe Clint a hundred dollars.

* * *

With as complicated as the toaster in the fifty-fifth floor kitchen was, Clint had thought it would be safer for Thor to try microwaving his morning Pop-Tarts. It had honestly never occurred to Clint he needed to instruct Thor to take them out of their foil packets first. Clint thought Jarvis' announcement that the kitchen was on fire was a little over-dramatic, considering it was just the microwave and a charred dish towel Thor had tried to use to beat out the flame, but it _had_ gathered the immediate attention of everyone on that floor. Which was also not necessarily a good thing.

Like all of them, Natasha had a few things that triggered memories she would rather leave buried. It wasn't something she ever talked about, but Clint had learned in Budapest that one of them was the smell of smoke. Despite her aversion, she hadn't blinked before hurrying into the kitchen, overtaking Clint, who had technically been closer. Now she stood gazing at the mess in front of her, the chemical smell of fire-suppressing foam hanging in the air, and shaking her head.

"You okay?" Clint reached out to put a hand on Natasha's arm, but she slapped him away, growling at him in Russian. Clint shrugged, not terribly worried as long as she was talking. It was when she was deathly silent, with the thousand-yard stare that quick intervention was required. Now she wasn't shutting down, just weary and more than a little annoyed. Clint could live with that – and he knew from experience if he tried to push her before she'd calmed, she would only question his parentage in five different languages.

Clint stepped away from the counter as one of Tony's worker bots came in to clean up the mess. Natasha breezed out of the room, and Clint let her go. He smirked at Thor. "Well, that's one way to liven up the morning."

"I am sorry, my friend." Thor bowed his head a little. "Your world has such wonders, but many of them seem fraught with danger."

Clint chuckled. "Forget the microwave. Your real brush with danger was getting between Natasha and her coffee."

Thor frowned a little and glanced in the direction Natasha had retreated. "Perhaps I should take some to her in order to rectify my error..."

"Oh, no." Clint held up his hands. As much as he would have wanted a ticket to that show, there were just some things friends didn't let friends do. "She has a coffee maker in her private kitchen. Besides, she makes her coffee _really_ strong. Even I don't get it right...or so I'm told." That seemed to satisfy Thor, who retrieved a replacement box of Pop-Tarts from the cabinet and sat down at the table across from Clint. "So what's your plan for today?" He'd gotten better at social small talk since moving in with the rest of the team, but in this case, Clint was genuinely curious. Thor had developed a taste for American entertainment and the results were plenty amusing to Clint. Besides, Thor _had_ just won him a hundred dollars; Tony's bet had been that Steve would be the first to inadvertently set something ablaze. Well, something outside of the lab, that was.

Thor looked intent. "I wish to find your gateway to the stars and study it. The knowledge will surely help my people as we rebuild the Bi-Frost."

"Good luck." Clint snorted. "NASA pulled out of SHIELD projects when Loki pulled his stunt with the tesseract."

"Surely they will see reason." Thor seemed undeterred. "I will go to the mountain and tell them of the wonders an alliance with my people could bring."

"What mountain?" Clint asked, before he remembered what movie Thor had been watching the night before. "Oh, for crying out loud, Thor – _Stargate_ is not a documentary!"

Thor looked confused. "But the men from far worlds who assumed the power of the gods for their own gain..."

It was probably wise not to point out that the inhabitants of Asgard had done the same, only in a more benevolent way. Except for Loki, anyhow. "You know what? Tony's got the TV series from that movie on DVD. Go watch that. Get back to me when they meet the Asgard."

Thor's eyes widened. "My people are in one of your programs?"

Clint nodded. "Oh, yeah. They even have one named Thor. His brother Loki's an asshole, too." Several of his fellow SHIELD agents knew that show inside and out and he'd seen most of the episodes, if out of order. "I think he might have a thing for the one called Heimdall. Do you know a Heimdall?"

"Indeed I do." An indescribable look crossed Thor's face, suggesting that he most certainly did not have a thing for his Heimdall. "He is the Guardian, a champion of Asgard. I must view this program."

"Have fun." Clint was tempted to steal a Pop-Tart from Thor, but he wasn't sure he wouldn't lose his hand, so he got his own from the cupboard. "I think the red-headed doctor's kind of hot."

Thor smiled. "Those with crimson hair often contain a fierce spirit, like the Lady Natasha."

Fierce? That was an understatement. Clint nodded. "Don't I know it." He stood up, figuring from past experience Natasha would have settled down to a simmer by now. "Let me know how it turns out."

A week later, when he was being regaled with a blow-by-blow breakdown of the startling parallels between _SG-1_'s take on Norse mythology and the real thing, Clint reconsidered his words. Who knew the actual Asgard had given up on cloning technology because they were afraid of the creepy little naked gray alien effect? Or something like that. Clint hadn't paid close enough attention to be sure. All he knew was, he'd created a monster.

* * *

"Oh, Brucie!"

Bruce looked up from his work, smiling as Tony came into the lab. There were dozens of them in the top ten research and development floors of Avengers Tower, and Tony always seemed to find him. Not that Bruce was trying to hide; if he didn't want to be found, he would have asked Jarvis not to tell Tony where he was. Bruce found he liked the company. Especially when Tony brought pizza. "What, is it lunch time already?"

"My, how time does fly." Tony set the pizza box down on the nearest clear space that didn't house anything delicate and grabbed a slice, which he held out to Bruce. "Hulk needs food."

Bruce rolled his eyes, but he accepted the pizza. "Yeah, unless something harmful needs smashed, the goal is kind of _not_ to invite him to the party." He didn't realize how hungry he'd been until he smelled food.

Tony nodded and swallowed a bite of his own pizza slice. "I guess it's good I decided not to wake everyone up with an air raid siren this morning, then."

Bruce shook his head. "Yeah, the kitchen fire was more than enough..." He trailed off, eying Tony's expression. "Oh, God. You actually had to talk yourself out of that, didn't you?"

Tony spread his hands out in front of him. "I may have seriously considered it for, like, thirty seconds. Then I said to myself, 'No, probably not worth it.' Then Pepper got in the shower and it was _definitely_ not worth it."

It was good to see Tony had _some_ sense, not that Bruce had actually doubted it. "Considering we haven't completed the prototype Hulk uniform yet, my nerves thank you."

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, probably Steve's, too. Last thing I needed this morning was to have to talk Captain America out from under his mattress." He made a face. "No, scratch that, he'd have dragged us all into the basement and held us hostage until I made Jarvis sound the all-clear." He laughed, but in his eyes was a look that said he knew damn well PTSD was not something to mess around with. Bruce knew from Tony's file that knowledge came with unfortunate personal experience, something he could certainly identify with. It would have probably been easier to figure out which of the Avengers _didn't_ have some form of trauma in their past. "Aren't you proud of me? I was _sensitive_."

Bruce pretended to be amazed. "You want points for actually using common sense?"

Tony nodded quickly. "Pretty much, yeah."

Bruce made a show of thinking it over. "Well, all right. But only because you brought me pizza."

"All right, then, it's settled!" Tony grabbed another piece of pizza and came around the counter to peer at Bruce's project. "Dude, the Hulk's uniform can_not_ be khaki-colored. We have my red-and-gold awesomeness, Thor's red-and-steel...Cap's wrapped in the flag. Even Natasha has red on her buckle. If you won't give the guy some rockin' purple pants, at least go with something colorful."

"Clint's uniform is mostly browns and black," Bruce pointed out – quite reasonably, he thought.

"But his laser sight is _red_."

When Tony got in a mood like this, the only thing left to do was roll with it. Bruce held up his hands. "Tony, think about that. Red and green? He'd look like a Christmas pageant gone wrong."

"Point." Tony plucked a piece of pepperoni off of his pizza and ate it. "So what's wrong with purple?"

"You're obsessed with the purple," Bruce accused, saving his work and calling up the schematic for his pet project, which fortunately had nothing to do with clothing the Hulk and was sure to capture Tony's attention. "Anyhow, check this out. When Thor threw the lightning at you and it increased your power...I'm thinking we could apply the physics to any type of energy assault..."

* * *

Fireballs were sailing through the hallway outside Sharon's office and the building was shaking as Ben Grimm chased down their source. All in all, just another day at work for Sharon. At least nothing in the lab had exploded.

Sharon waited the commotion out, then tapped the intercom. Her office was attached to the lab, but unless she wired directly into his headset, Reed Richards wasn't likely to notice her presence. He was on a roll with something, and Sharon would calmly wait it out before deciding whether or not it was something SHIELD needed to know about. She had been with the agency long enough to enjoy a small amount of personal discretion. Pet robots were not a threat. "Dr. Richards, I'm leaving for lunch. Can I get you anything?" His reply was cryptic and full of science jargon. He would be fine for awhile. "All right. You can call my cell if you need me."

Since they'd withdrawn into semi-retirement, the Fantastic Four's place on SHIELD radar had dropped. A much more junior agent could have babysat them, but Sharon wanted to stay in the field, and there had been an opening. It was so much better than having to deal with Fury all day, every day. She liked her boss, honestly, but his paranoia and single-mindedness occasionally set her teeth on edge. He hadn't been wrong about his Avengers, though.

At first, Sharon had been placed at the Baxter Building because it meant she could avoid being recalled to headquarters when Fury decided to pull her off Steve's case. Now, the gang of four had grown on her and the hours were flexible. If there were ever a dire emergency at SHIELD, she would return to base; Phil Coulson's death had moved her up even further on the list of people who were in charge of cleaning up Doomsday should it happen in-house. God, she missed Phil. She wasn't convinced Fury hadn't hidden him away and used his "death" to move the Avengers to action. Fury would have done it in a heartbeat, but even with all of her access to records, Sharon couldn't prove it. She was determined to hold onto that fantasy until proven wrong, however. It was one of the few things she didn't dare mention to Steve. No sense in getting him riled up unless it was a sure thing. But if Phil was alive and the Avengers found out they'd been duped...well, Sharon wouldn't have missed that show for the world.

Sharon was on her way to the elevator when Johnny materialized at her side, grinning. He'd been positively impish lately, and Sharon wasn't sure what to expect from him. "I'm going to the cafe across the street for lunch," she said. "Can I bring you something?" Always helpful, always listening.

"The waitress," Johnny replied, smiling wider. "I don't know her name, the brunette – with the curls and the huge-" He broke off suddenly, looking around innocently. "Her."

Sharon laughed. "Her name is Amanda. She's married."

Johnny frowned. "How do you even know that?"

"I eat there a lot," Sharon told him.

"Oh, yeah, I've noticed." The mischief in Johnny's tone rose a notch higher. "With Captain Hotshot."

"Hotshot?" Sharon echoed, unable to contain her amusement. "Look who's talking."

"Well, he's the latest big thing." Johnny turned his secret weapon on her: the dreaded puppy-dog eyes. "Tell me – is he your latest big thing?"

Sharon waved him off. "You're just upset because people are mistaking you for him and not the other way around." She enjoyed teasing him, within limits. He reacted so well. Ishtar had been a notable exception to the current rule, but Sharon tried to avoid thinking of that debacle.

"Can I meet him?" Johnny asked, practically begging.

Sharon shrugged. "No one's stopping you. He's been here before, but you were always out."

"Oh, good." Johnny rubbed his hands together. "I finally get to see if the legend lives up to the hype. This is gonna be fun."

Sharon wouldn't admit it to him, but privately, she agreed.

* * *

Steve was waiting for Sharon in her favorite diner, conveniently located across the street from the Baxter Building. He glanced toward the door as the chimes jangled, smiling when Sharon walked in, then sizing up the young man who followed. It had to be Johnny Storm.

Steve could see where people made the connection, but it wasn't as much like looking in a mirror as he'd been promised. Which was just as well. It would have been a little creepy otherwise.

Sharon led the kid over to the table. It felt weird to immediately think of him as a kid, because they probably weren't that far apart in age, physically. But everyone referred to him as "the kid," and given the tousled hair and bounce in Johnny's step, Steve could see why. "Steve. Hi. I hope you don't mind I brought a friend."

Steve held out a hand. "Of course not. I'm Steve Rogers."

Johnny shook the hand offered. "Johnny Storm. I've, uh, heard an awful lot about you. All good. As if there's any bad press about Captain _America_." He gave Steve a look that seemed to ask what Steve had heard about him.

Johnny's skin seemed warmer to the touch than most, and Steve wondered if that was due to his powers or not. "I hear you used to be the darling of the press."

Johnny nodded. "That's true. Yeah, those were the days. Fame, fortune. Both lost quite easily." He appeared to have a flair for the dramatic.

"It's got to beat fighting for your life all the time." Steve had done the research; the Fantastic Four had gone up against some tough opponents in their day.

"_That_ is much improved." Johnny grinned. "Anyhow, I'll be off. Just wanted to say hi and welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thanks. I'll see you again sometime." Steve watched as Johnny took a not-too-subtle look at one of the waitresses on his way out the door.

"So what'd you think?" Sharon asked.

Steve shook his head. "He seems like he could be a handful."

Sharon nodded. "Oh, yeah. He's impulsive, charming...but he's got a good heart. He reminds me a lot of Tony sometimes."

"I could see that." Thinking of Tony made Steve chuckle. "He's not going to be happy when he finds out we've met without him." Tony had been making a big deal about it for awhile, whenever an opportunity was missed, but he made a big deal out of a lot of things. Sometimes Steve thought Tony was just entertaining himself and anyone else he amused was a bonus. "Some paradox. I mean, I can see where people would notice a resemblance, but it's not earth-shattering."

Sharon picked up her menu. "You're too close to see it properly. It _is_ kind of remarkable. Maybe it just seems like a bigger deal because you're both supers. No one might have noticed if you were two regular people."

"Maybe," Steve allowed. "I don't know. My mom had a lot of cousins I never knew. Maybe one of them is a link. Maybe it's just chance." It wasn't going to keep him up nights.

He knew Sharon brought it up occasionally just to tease him, but if SHIELD ever seriously raised the idea of an identity swap for an op, Steve was going to have to protest. Johnny might have been a good kid, but Steve didn't let just anybody touch his shield.

* * *

_So the universe didn't explode. But don't rule out SHIELD funny business yet._

_Thank you all so much for encouraging me on this self-indulgent little pleasure. I've been typing with a broken "s" key on my keyboard just to get another chapter out because I'm hooked. New keyboard arrives tomorrow! I'll get back to thank-yous on the reviews once it's installed on my laptop, but this is a general thank you to all who alerted, favorited, and reviewed!_

_Next chapter – Odin needs to visit another of the Realms, leaving his wayward younger son in the Avengers' care._


	11. Adventures in Babysitting

Steve's cell phone made a little chirping noise every time he got a new email. It got annoying after awhile, but he hadn't figured out how to turn it off yet. He'd ask Sharon the next time he saw her; she would be most likely to fix it without making any wisecracks about his command of technology.

Despite the annoying quality of the email notifications, it did get him to check his email more frequently than he might have otherwise. Steve pulled up his email account to see what was going on now.

It was another email from Tony.

_Attention Avengers!_

_ The following items have been designated as inappropriate uses of Cap's shield._

Steve had to wonder if Tony really had nothing better to do with his time, but he kept reading anyway, curious – and strangely entertained.

_Frisbee (this should go without saying – it's all fun until someone loses their head!)_

_Serving platter_

_Trash receptacle_

_Receptacle for anything, pretty much_

_Hat_

_Sled_

_Satellite dish_

_Umbrella_

_Hulk chew toy_

_ I would have made it an even ten, but the formatting got messed up and I can't be bothered to fix it right now. Add anything to this list you like!_

Steve shook his head and sent off a reply, pleased with himself that at least he'd gotten the hang of email.

_If you have to even wonder if it's inappropriate, it probably is. Stop touching my shield._

_ Steve_

Having done his part to play along, Steve went back to the book he'd been reading. He had gotten another chapter in before Tony interrupted via the PA system.

"It's Avengers happy hour time, folks! We'll see you in the fifty-fifth floor bar. Uniforms are optional, clothing is not – unless you're female!"

Steve sighed and set his book aside. Despite several of Tony's attempts at experimentation, alcohol still didn't affect him – and Steve knew that was why he needed to be on hand to supervise the antics. Bruce didn't generally drink, claiming that it affected his control and no one wanted to see a drunk Hulk. Tony countered that a drunk Hulk was _exactly_ what everyone wanted to see...and so it went. Even if mere Earth alcohol didn't get Thor drunk, he still enjoyed the festivities a little much at times, but Steve figured he and Bruce could keep the others from getting too wild.

Besides, Steve had gotten to the point where he was beginning to find the milder side of his team's antics entertaining.

* * *

Apparently, Tony's invite had been issued about an hour after he, Clint, and Natasha had already gotten the party started. Though Steve knew drinking was not truly a Russian Olympic sport, as Clint claimed, Natasha was pretty solid despite her smaller frame. She and Clint were once again trying to out-drink each other, and Tony never needed an excuse to drink. By the time Steve arrived, Bruce not far behind him, "Sexy and I Know It" was blasting through the bar and Tony was happily watching Natasha and Clint grinding to the music. Steve had been somewhat shocked by that style of dance when he first saw it, but like other conventions of the twenty-first century, he was starting to get used to it.

Bruce had procured two bottles of water from under the bar and handed one to Steve. He calmly assessed the scene ahead of them. "So is it just me or does it look like those two are a couple of minutes away from having sex on the spot?"

Old-fashioned values made Steve squirm a bit at the thought, but he tried not to judge too harshly. He'd gotten himself in enough trouble with his off-the-cuff assessment of Tony Stark at the beginning of all this. "Yeah. Sure seems that way."

Bruce nodded. "Okay, as long as we're both on the same page. If those clothes come off, I'm spraying them with a fire hose."

"Do we even have a fire hose?" Steve asked, curious. It seemed like a hose would have been replaced with something more complicated in anything Tony designed.

"Probably not." Bruce shrugged. "I'll find something."

"Fire extinguisher?" Steve suggested. He knew they had several of those on each floor.

Bruce chuckled, then nodded. "Hopefully the dry chemical kind. That'd distract them."

Thor came barreling into the room moments later, with his usual enthusiasm for anything remotely resembling a party. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on the karaoke machine. They'd tried karaoke at a team night. Thor had really, really enjoyed the experience – both observing and participating.

"Oh, God," Bruce muttered to Steve. "This is totally going to turn into a drunken karaoke party, isn't it?"

Steve sighed, nodding. "Yeah. Sure seems that way."

* * *

Two hours in, Thor was the only one of the Avengers' party animals who was still sober. They actually weren't half bad singers, though. As the afternoon wore on, Natasha started to mix her languages a bit and Clint found it endlessly entertaining, at least when he wasn't the one providing the entertainment. Clint was currently providing a heartfelt rendition of "Hit Me With Your Best Shot," and though it wasn't in Steve's nature to be amused at the sake of others, he was beginning to relax and enjoy the show. They were all adults who had gotten into this willingly.

Pepper wandered in at the end of Clint's song, shaking her head. She smiled and waved at Steve and Bruce. "Sorry I left you two to be the designated adults, but someone's got to run the company."

"Oh, it's quite all right." Bruce had finally allowed himself a single drink, which he'd been nursing over the last half hour. "They've been pussycats, actually."

Pepper glanced around. "Where's Tony?"

That was an excellent question. Tony had been quiet – too quiet. Steve looked around, then to Bruce, hopefully.

Bruce set his drink aside immediately, looking alarmed – but without a trace of green in his complexion. "Crap, we lost one."

And it would have figured it would be the one they probably needed to keep the closest eye on. Steve frowned, deliberately avoiding looking at Pepper. "Jarvis, where is Tony?"

"Mr. Stark is not in the building," Jarvis answered.

"Shit," Bruce groaned.

Steve trusted Tony wouldn't be stupid enough to drive drunk, but there were many other ways in which Tony could have left. He risked a glance at Pepper, who looked vaguely annoyed but not enraged. "How long ago did he leave?"

"Approximately ten minutes, sir," Jarvis replied. At least they hadn't lost track of Tony for _too_ long.

"Does he have the suit?" Pepper asked.

"Yes, Ms. Potts."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Did you at least try to stop him?" Steve hoped she was asking Jarvis, because he really didn't have a good answer for her. He was kicking himself for letting Tony slip out.

"I made a recommendation, but there was nothing in my protocols to prevent Mr. Stark from leaving the property," Jarvis said.

Pepper put a hand to her forehead. "God, the last time he was drunk in the suit..."

"What happened?" Steve asked, worried. "We'll find him, I promise."

"He made an ass of himself and got into it with Rhodey." Pepper waved a hand, as if she didn't want to discuss it any further, and Steve was happy to respect that. "We'll find him, all right. And then I'm going to kick his ass. I told him I wouldn't stop him from drinking, but he doesn't have to be _stupid_ about it!"

"Agreed." Bruce surveyed the others. "Thor could help us search, but I wouldn't count on our master assassins to walk a straight line about now."

"Is it possible that someone would...find him?" Steve shrugged as Pepper and Bruce looked at him curiously. "I mean, he doesn't exactly blend into a crowd under normal circumstances..." His cell phone rang, and though he was inclined to ignore it, he hoped Tony was calling. The caller ID was Sharon, however.

Pepper glanced at the screen. "Answer it. If he's gotten into enough trouble for SHIELD to get involved, we might as well know now."

It was possible Sharon was calling him just to chat, but Steve somehow doubted it would be that simple. Sharon was usually working around this time. He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Steve." Sharon sounded too calm. "I think I have something that belongs to you guys."

Even if Steve hadn't heard Tony rambling in the background, that would have been his first guess. _Well, at least someone friendly found him._ "Where is he?"

"At work with me," Sharon said, sounded less put out than Steve would have been. "I caught him peeking through the window of Dr. Richards' lab."

Steve frowned. "Isn't that forty floors or so up?"

"Yes." In the background, Tony was shouting something about unnecessary restraint. "He's inside. He's fine, just drunk." From her tone, Steve guessed she was probably shaking her head or close to doing so. "He used to do shit like this to me when we were teenagers. Without the suit, of course – but, you know, dramatic alcohol-fueled antics."

Steve sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "I'll come get him."

"I'd appreciate it. I'd hate to have to make Ben sit on him."

"I'll see you soon." Steve hung up, then looked at Pepper and Bruce. "Okay, I'm going to go get Tony."

"By yourself?" Pepper asked. "No way. I'll drive you. I don't think Tony's going to fit well on the back of your motorcycle." It apparently went without saying that Steve driving one of Tony's cars would be a bad idea. Steve wasn't insulted by this, since it was true.

"What?" Bruce shook his head firmly. "No. No way are you two going off and leaving me here by myself! Even if Thor helps me babysit, just _no_. Pepper, can you handle Tony by yourself?"

Pepper nodded, but she looked uncertain. "Of course, unless he resists. I mean, physically..."

"Maybe you should go, then?" Steve asked Bruce. He wanted to keep everybody happy, though he knew that Bruce didn't have the same physical prowess when he wasn't Hulk.

"Okay, okay." Pepper held up her hands – the woman with a plan, as usual. "Here's what we're going to do. Steve, you take Happy and go get Tony. I will deal with Tony when you get here. In the meantime, Bruce and I will put a movie on or something and get everyone to settle down."

"Good idea." Redirecting the others wouldn't be terribly difficult, Steve surmised. He headed for the door, then stopped, borrowing an idea from Sharon. "If all else fails, have the Hulk sit on them."

Bruce's smile was patient, but controlled chaos lurked in his eyes. "Believe me, that is more tempting than you know."

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was notably silent, with the exception of Tony muttering something when he came in about how sleeping on the couch wasn't so bad, because his couches were comfortable. Tony mixed up at batch of his preferred hangover remedy, passing it out to himself, Clint, and Natasha. They shot him grateful looks, but the exchange was wordless. Even _Thor_ was quiet, after having assessed his teammates, and that was something of a minor miracle. Thor was still getting the hang of inside voices, after all.

Steve exchanged a look with Bruce, who smiled back with the smug satisfaction of someone who was seeing natural consequences played out. Steve couldn't blame him. As much as Steve hated to see any of his friends suffering, after hauling Tony – suit and all – back home, his sympathy quotient was a notch lower than it otherwise would have been. He wasn't going to deliberately aggravate them, though, so he ate his oatmeal quietly.

About halfway through the meal, a beam of light shot straight from the ceiling to the floor of the dining area. That got everyone's attention. After a minute, the light beam began to resemble the outline of a person, and the group came to stand together, their postures ready to fight if necessary. None of them had their weapons – it was _breakfast_ – but they were each skilled in hand-to-hand. It would have to do, if this was a threat.

The light cleared, and a regally dressed older man stood in front of them, a patch over one eye. Steve was beginning to get very suspicious of men with eye patches who appeared whenever they liked. He glanced at his team for their reactions, and was calmed – but confused – when Thor bowed his head immediately and dropped to one knee.

"Father." Thor glanced up, a smile on his face. "It pleases me to see you."

So, another Asgardian – and Thor's father, at that. At least he wasn't a threat. Thor always spoke highly of his father, in reverent tones. Steve nodded his head, not particularly inclined to kneel, but feeling he should make some acknowledgment. "Mr. Odinson, sir."

Odin smiled and made a sweeping gesture with one hand, as if welcoming the others – strange, considering he'd landed in the middle of their home. He dropped a hand on Thor's shoulder. "Thor, my son. You will be happy to learn that we have been able to harness the power of the tesseract to repair the Bi-Frost – indeed, better than it was before."

Thor smiled. "That is good news indeed."

Tony ran one hand through his hair, frowning at Odin a little. "No offense, but did you pop down this early in the morning just to tell us that?"

Odin's smile faded into a more serious look. "No, I fear I have more to bring you than glad tidings."

"Oh, boy," Bruce muttered to himself.

Thor rose to his feet. "Is there a problem within the Realms? Might I be of service?"

Odin inclined his head. "I do have need of your help, and that of your friends. I have business in the other Realms, and your mother and Freya must accompany me."

"What do you require us to do?" Thor asked, looking all too eager.

"Yeah, I'd like to know the same thing myself," Clint said, not nearly as enthusiastic.

"It is Loki," Odin answered. Clint and Tony cursed and Thor glared at them. Odin continued as if he hadn't noticed. "He continues to carry out his punishment, confined to the palace and stripped of his power until he is worthy of it once more. However, without his power, he is unable to defend himself against the Chitauri's master, who seeks his blood as payment for his failure to deliver the tesseract."

"Then we will protect him," Thor vowed. He was the only one who looked absolutely sure about that. Clint's expression suggested he would be happy to hand Loki over himself, but given the history, Steve understood.

"Um, not to be a downer," Tony said, "but doesn't that mean this 'master' is gonna come after _us_ if we have Loki?"

"He is said to fear your planet, knowing those who call themselves the Avengers are Midgard's champions." Odin's tone was no doubt meant to be reassuring. Steve was still uncertain. Without his power, Loki would be less formidable, but this was not going to be a pleasure assignment.

"Um, group conference, guys?" Tony asked. Everyone but Thor moved into a huddle around him.

Thor looked at Odin, then to his team. "If the All-Father requires us, we should respond."

Odin motioned to the group. "I understand that business is conducted differently on Midgard. Loki has wronged you all."

"Oh, good, he understands." Bruce sighed. "Guys, this sounds like a really bad idea."

Thor was firm. "He is my brother. I _will_ protect him, with or without you, my friends."

Steve had no doubt of that. He wanted to find some middle ground. "I don't like it, either, but without his power, he shouldn't be as bad. As long as we don't let him out of the tower..."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Guys, this is _Loki_ we're talking about. Even without his power, he's still lies and mischief."

"I will take personal responsibility for him," Thor said. "He may be the Trickster, but I know him well."

Natasha bit her lower lip, then looked around at the others. "The point is, do we really have a choice? I mean, if we say no, then...what? He puts Loki somewhere else, probably on this planet from what he said, and we end up having to deal with Loki anyway."

"So what you're saying is, it might as well be on our terms?" Bruce asked.

Clint glowered, but he didn't say anything else.

"Then we will do this?" Thor asked.

There were resigned sighs all around. Steve finally nodded. "I guess so. How long does your father typically take when visiting other worlds?"

"Diplomatic visits usually require about a week of your time." Thor sounded pretty confident of that. "If the All-Father meant to take longer, he would have told us."

"All right," Tony allowed, "but Loki better not try anything funny. Do you have any idea how long it took to get the Loki-sized dent out of my floor?"

All eyes turned to Bruce, who smiled slyly and spread his hands in front of him. "I regret nothing."

Clint closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a long-ass week."

* * *

_As always, thanks so much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! I apologize for taking so long to personally reply to reviews, but this week has been super busy. Hopefully I'll be quicker with the next chapter. I'm a school nurse and school is just about to let out, so it's a crazy time._

_ Next chapter: Loki arrives, sans powers but still a pain in the ass. Thor tries a little brotherly love. The others have a different tactic._


	12. Loki'd

_Thanks so much for all the love on this story. I'm also sure that Odin needed a Daddy Time-Out from Loki. And, so, he becomes someone else's problem for a bit. I've thrown in a few references inspired by some of your reviews. Thanks, and enjoy!_

_ Again, my apologies for the delay, but I was part of an epic Avengers photo shoot in Cleveland, on the spot where they filmed Loki subjugating the crowd. We had an awesome Loki and Cap recreating their battle, too. I've been recovering from the drive out there and going back to work after three hours of sleep. I regret nothing. YouTube "Avengers Cleveland shoot" and find the video by milackurz for a sneak preview. More video and pics will come._

* * *

Tony was pretty damned sure that Odin was enjoying a royal banquet on some other planet and that he'd dumped Loki on the Avengers so he wouldn't have to feel guilty about it. Tony knew from experience how that went. Dad had things to do, so ship the kid off for a bit... Tony tried not to finish that thought, because that led to other thoughts. Like how maybe Loki always felt like he didn't measure up to the impossibly high standards his brother set, just like Tony wanted to scream sometimes that he was never going to be Steve Rogers. And, at that point, things in Tony's head got kind of creepy, because no way in hell was he going to be feeling the least bit sorry for Loki Laufeyson.

It was easier not to feel sorry for Loki over dinner. Loki didn't have his magic, but he still had the silver tongue legend spoke of, and somehow he managed to talk everyone into take-out shawarma, because he'd been pinned to the floor of a holding cell by Mjolnir the first time around. The choice of food was fine. Nobody liked feeling like Loki was running the show, however. Except maybe Thor, who complained the least. But he'd had centuries to get used to it.

Loki looked much different, sitting in the communal kitchen, his armor and robes traded for a green t-shirt and gray lounge pants. In socked feet. He looked entirely too much at home, and Tony reminded himself to check with Thor later about how time passed in other realms. Because if Odin didn't show up for another six years, Tony was going to throw Loki out a window. Except he couldn't, really, because all of the windows in Avengers Tower were now constructed from shatter-proof glass. Bruce's floor had been thoroughly Hulk-proofed, but the other floors were, at the very least, Hulk-resistant.

Loki calmly plucked the front page of the _Daily Bugle_ from Steve's hands, leaving Steve looking annoyed but holding the rest of the paper. "Oh, you were done with that section, Captain, don't pout. I don't see how the women of Midgard would find that sort of thing attractive." He browsed the front page, raising a thin eyebrow. "Hmm. Interesting."

"What?" Tony didn't much care for making conversation with Loki, but he hated when Loki used that tone, the one that suggested he was up to something. Already. Loki had been with them less than twelve hours and he was already wearing out his welcome. "It's Spiderman. No big deal."

"Perhaps you should invite him to join your merry band," Loki suggested. "I'm sure he'd fit right in. Half-man, half-spider. Only in Midgard."

Thor poked a fry in Loki's direction. "Not true, brother. The cosmos has many strange unions."

"As much as I loathe the idea of agreeing with you, I suppose you're right," Loki admitted. "After all, my son is an eight-legged horse."

It was said so casually, so conversationally, that Tony was inclined to chalk it up to Loki being weird. But then Thor nodded knowingly and Tony nearly choked. "Holy shit, they let you _reproduce_?"

"Indeed." Thor was too happy to jump in. "Loki has many children."

"Great, guys," Tony muttered. "We can all sleep better at night knowing that, am I right?" They'd bunked Loki with Thor in order to provide some level of supervision, but given the delight Thor took in Loki's history, Tony was beginning to wonder how many of those antics Thor had been part of.

"Can we just not talk about kids?" Natasha muttered, sounding annoyed, and Clint shot her a concerned look. She waved him off, and both carried on as if nothing had ever happened. Tony wanted to know what that was all about, but he knew better than to ask.

"What do you suggest we talk about then?" Loki asked.

"Eating in silence might be nice," Tony suggested. They rarely did, but Tony doubted anyone would object given the circumstances.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Nonsense. I realize none of you mortals have ever enjoyed a traditional Asgard banquet, but you have two princes of Asgard in your midst. I would suggest you act accordingly."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with Asgard except rule it."

Loki shrugged. "No matter what my heritage, I am still royalty."

Thor grinned. "Of course you are, brother."

Loki shot him a warning look. "That still doesn't mean I claim you. Please don't attempt to hug me again."

Tony sighed and picked a piece of cucumber out of his shawarma roll before popping it into his mouth. Odin owed them for this, big time.

* * *

Loki knew when he was unwelcome; he simply didn't care. Thor was about the only one who wanted him in Avengers Tower, and if his older brother weren't so unbearably naïve about their relationship, Loki might have actually been touched by that. After everything, he'd been welcomed back – even if Odin had taken most of his magic as punishment. That stung. Loki retained his healing capabilities, just in case the Chitauri caught up with him despite everyone's best efforts, but that was no fun. At least he still had his mind. That, no one could ever take from him. It was difficult, knowing how much more brilliant he was than everyone surrounding him, but Loki knew he would manage.

What Loki really wanted to do was cast a changeling spell of some sort on the Avengers and then sit back and enjoy the results. He didn't know what he'd turn them into; perhaps drooling animals or the children most of them acted like. Something fairly powerless. The children idea was particularly appealing, especially if he left one of them untouched to deal with the others. Loki had never been able to get to the bottom of it during the brief but glorious time Clint Barton was his minion, but there was something about children that bothered Natasha Romanoff. Clint had fought too much for Loki to know everything – he was remarkably feisty when it came to his deepest secrets – but Loki knew enough to be able to wield the knowledge as a weapon. He'd seen a flash of it over dinner and it delighted him.

These Midgardians had Loki all wrong. Their myths focused on Odin and Thor – oh, none of the Realms could get enough of _Thor_. Loki was mentioned, as the Trickster, the god of mischief and chaos. Which he was, of course, but he was so much more. He didn't intentionally set out to hurt anyone he took a liking to – usually. Plans had gone awry before. However, if there was chaos to be had, Loki couldn't help himself. It was in his nature. He wanted to watch the universe burn.

Odin had hoped to use Loki as an olive branch – Loki, the stolen son he'd named, given the power to become the most unpredictable member of the Aesir. The idea was laughable. Yet despite his longing for vengeance, to right the wrongs of his life, Loki still felt something for the family that had raised him. It was all very confusing, and Loki was never supposed to be the one left confused.

Loki had no idea how long he'd be with the Avengers, but he supposed he might as well amuse himself with them. It was better than dodging the Warriors Three. They had sworn not to physically harm Loki, but they had no qualms about stopping just short of that. It seemed they carried a grudge – and took a bit too much pleasure in it.

One way or another, Loki was going to have to get his power back before anything could be accomplished. Odin had said Loki must earn it, as Thor did during his punishment, and Thor had fought off a destroyer before _that_ happened. Loki had no desire to do anything like that. But he was clever. He'd figure it out.

In the meantime, there wasn't a bad view from Thor's living room.

* * *

Steve was never really reluctant to call Sharon, but with Loki in the building, it seemed awkward. Sharon had been kind enough to give him what little warning she got about SHIELD visits, so it seemed like common courtesy to let her know about the Asgard situation, just in case something happened. On the other hand, they were supposed to be protecting Loki, and Steve didn't trust that those above Sharon's head – specifically Fury and the shadowy Council – might not swoop in and demand Loki's head.

In the end, Steve decided to trust his friend's judgment and hope for the best. Sharon picked up on the first ring, greeting Steve with, "Hi, how's your house guest?"

Steve was relieved, but not entirely shocked. Of _course_ SHIELD already knew. "He's actually behaving himself...mostly. I mean, sure, he's obnoxious, but he doesn't have his magic. Should we be preparing for a visit from Fury?"

Sharon sighed. "I think you'll be okay unless Loki tries something funny. He doesn't always tell me everything, but he's not spying on you guys constantly. We monitor a radius surrounding the tower for abnormal energy readings and then activate the cameras to figure out what's going on. I know it sounds invasive, but the intent is to be able to send you guys backup if you're under attack."

Steve was getting to the point where if that was the least of Fury's surveillance, he wasn't going to bother protesting. He didn't like it, but he knew the Avengers would never be able to be private citizens entirely. They were too valuable to Fury and considered too volatile by many others. "I guess it is what it is. I don't know what his game is, but other than trying to order us around, Loki's been all right, I guess. I wouldn't leave him unsupervised, but...he seems more in touch with reality than before." It was hard to let go of everything Loki had done, but so much of it in retrospect seemed spurred by insanity.

"Yeah, the tesseract's power seems to have a pretty negative effect on people's minds," Sharon observed. "You got to see that first-hand with Red Skull."

"Boy, did I," Steve muttered. He was glad the cube was locked away on Asgard, far out of humanity's hands. They weren't ready for that kind of power. "So what else is going on?"

"Nothing worth taking the Avengers off Loki-sitting duty," Sharon said. "A few crime lords. Low-level contractors gone rogue. Nothing SHIELD can't handle. Doesn't even warrant pulling me out of my assignment."

"Getting bored?" Steve teased.

"In this city? Never." Sharon chuckled. "So what are you guys and Mischief Personified doing tonight?"

Steve fully intended to keep out of whatever Loki deemed entertainment, unless it called for muscle to stop him. "The less I know, the better. He commandeered our dinner plans earlier. Thor will call if he needs help managing Loki." As far as Steve knew, most of the Avengers had retreated to their respective levels of the tower after dinner. "And Jarvis doesn't hesitate to call if he thinks things are getting out of hand." The AI was a bit hyper-vigilant at times, but Steve had gotten used to it – and as much as the idea of a computer running the house still made him a bit nervous, he liked knowing that someone was keeping an eye on things. As much as he and Bruce tried to keep the others in line, they weren't always successful.

"Well, good luck." Sharon sounded amused. "Let me know if you need anything."

Steve smiled. "Believe me, you'll be the first person I call." As long as he had Sharon to go through, the world would have to be ending before Steve called Fury first.

* * *

Tony was not at all sure what to think when he found Loki behind his bar, casually frosting a glass. "Will you get out of there? _Mine_." Three days and Loki already thought he owned the place.

Loki rolled his eyes. "My, my, you're quite possessive." He picked up his glass and poured himself a drink before strolling out from behind the bar.

"I thought you didn't have your magic," Tony said accusingly, looking at the glass. If this was part of a trick, he was not going to be happy.

"Oh, I don't – more's the pity." Loki sighed and held up the glass. "This ability is my birthright. It does come in handy from time to time, I suppose."

Tony shook his head and went to get a drink of his own. "You've been itching to show that off since you got here, haven't you?"

Loki didn't even bother to look sheepish – in fact, he looked more bored than anything. "Possibly."

"So how's your sleepover with Big Brother going?" Tony asked, hoping to annoy Loki. He got a little bit of a glare for his efforts. "Does he let you crawl into his bed at night when you have a bad dream?"

Loki curled his upper lip, looking disdainful. "I don't _have_ nightmares; I create them."

"Whatever." Tony waved a hand at him. "You know, you still haven't apologized to me."

Loki raised a single eyebrow. "Whatever for?"

"Oh, you know." Tony shrugged. "Trashing my place. Throwing me out a window. Considering I'm letting you stay here now so your former army doesn't kick your ass, you could at least pretend to be sorry."

Loki looked unmoved. "Except I'm not actually all that sorry, so what would the point be?"

Tony frowned. "Are you telling me the god of lies actually has a problem with _lying_?"

"Fine, then," Loki scoffed. "If it means anything to you, I am dreadfully sorry. I regret it nearly as much as I regret calling your Black Widow a mewling quim."

Which was to say, probably not at all. Tony chuckled into his glass. "So that's what you called her. She was pretty pissed. Kind of a dirty mouth you've got there, being a prince and all."

"Oh, and I suppose I should be taking lessons from you?" Loki asked.

Tony raised a finger, nodding a little. "Touche." He gestured from the bar to the kitchen. "As long as we're drinking before breakfast, maybe we should actually eat something?" He wasn't trying to be particularly hospitable, but it was something to do.

"If you insist." Loki sniffed. "I absolutely refuse to touch those insipid pastries my brother has become so fond of, however."

"So, not a fan of Pop-Tarts." Tony nodded. "Got it. Fortunately, we've got plenty else to choose from..."

* * *

Tony would definitely not call what he had with Loki "bonding" under any circumstances. It just so happened that they were the snarkiest two people in the tower and so they held their own when it came to verbal sparring. That was as far as it went. Even stripped of magic, Loki was still much stronger than any average human. He was tall, regal, and pretty much a pain in the ass. But Tony was beginning to realize when Loki antagonized them, there was due recourse. All Tony had to do was allow himself to be obnoxious – which wasn't very hard.

"So, you're tall compared to us, sure," Tony said, sizing Loki up as compared to Thor, "but aren't you a little small for a Frost Giant?"

Thor seemed about to protest, but Loki silenced him with a hiss. "I hardly need you to fight my battles for me." He returned his attention to Tony. "I would think you of all humans would understand that intelligence often trumps brute strength. You may be clever for a human, but you are quite short."

"Oh, Lord," Bruce muttered from the couch. "Here we go."

Tony drew himself up to his full height, ready to compile a complete argument in his defense – which was probably what Bruce was bracing himself for. It occurred to Tony, however, that Loki was probably expecting the same thing, and so with some regret, Tony let it go – and presented a greater challenge. "Is that the best you can come up with to insult me?"

Loki's expression suggested that insulting Tony further would be child's play. For him, it probably was. "Really, Mr. Stark, do I _need_ to bring your personal life into this?"

If Tony hadn't been reasonably sure that Loki was going to go for the throat and drag Pepper into it, he would have issued an invitation. Tony's life was only as outrageous as he wanted it to be, but Pepper was off limits. Especially when she was away on official business and not around to give Loki an earful of her own. "Not necessary, actually."

Loki pouted a bit, which was not nearly as compelling as he probably thought it was. "Oh, come now. You're no fun." He ran a hand through his hair, and Tony wondered briefly how much time Loki spent preening to get those little flips in the back just so.

"Oh, I'm loads of fun." Tony grinned cheekily. "Just ask my friends."

Thor, always helpful, nodded. "Indeed. We have had much merriment together."

"Oh, is that what that was?" Bruce asked. Tony grabbed a couch pillow and swatted him with it. Bruce grinned dangerously. "Careful, Tony. Wouldn't want to make the Other Guy mad..."

Loki paled a bit, which Tony would have previously thought impossible. "Please, let's not."

Tony flopped onto the couch next to Bruce. "I think he's scared of you, buddy."

Bruce looked quite pleased with himself. "As he should be."

Loki looked to Thor, as if for help. Thor chuckled and held up his hands. "I will protect you from physical harm, brother, but you are quite capable of handling yourself for now."

Tony gave Thor a thumbs-up. "Good for you, Thor. Let him fight his own battles."

Loki glared at them all, before he turned on his heel and headed for the elevator. It didn't look as impressive without his cape and armor. He left, muttering something about insolence and unruly humans. Tony wasn't too worried about it, as Jarvis had been instructed to limit Loki's access to his living quarters and the common areas on the fifty-fifth floor. Anywhere else in the building required him to be with one of the Avengers. So far, the system was working well.

Clint had been watching the exchange silently, but after Loki's departure, he looked at Thor. "You know, it's been almost a week. Any word from Daddy?"

Thor shook his head. "No, nothing yet."

"Yup, called it," Tony sighed. "He's going to be here forever. We got punked."

"No, we got Loki'd," Bruce corrected.

"That is _not_ even a word," Tony accused, though the sentiment was apt.

Bruce didn't budge. "It is now."

"Whatever." Tony rubbed his forehead with one hand. "We definitely need to discuss this at the next team meeting."

* * *

Loki hated to admit it to anyone, even – no, especially – himself, but he had developed a grudging affection for some of the Avengers. Banner, he was still particularly wary of, and his relationship with Thor was still love-hate, but Stark was entertaining. Barton stayed clear of Loki, but he had been a good minion. Romanoff fascinated Loki more than anything, her fiery spirit in direct contrast with a deeper, soft core. And then there was the captain...self-appointed guardian of the team, strong and brave and ridiculously goodhearted. There had to be a chink in his armor somewhere, but denied the ability to get inside anyone's head in the way he was accustomed to, Loki had to wait, watch, and study.

"Brother, will you be joining us for dinner?" Thor asked in his usual booming fashion as he walked into their shared living room.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Months on this planet and still you have no concept of an indoor voice." He studied his wardrobe choices, as Stark had dropped off an assortment of clothing earlier in the day. None of it befitted a prince, but it would do. Thor had taken a liking to Midgardian patterned shirts, usually with a hint of his signature red. They made him look like a commoner who badly needed to shave, but Thor didn't seem to mind. "I don't understand this planet at all." He held up a shirt in a lovely shade of green, but the emblem emblazoned on it baffled him. Rainbow colors, the outline of a man. "'It's okay to be Takei.' What the devil is a Takei?"

Thor's eyes lit up, as if delighted to know the answer. "He is a man, in a show about the cosmos." He studied the shirt. "Stark told me of this...it would seem those men who fancy men are not as accepted on this planet yet. They are working toward that goal. They wear many colors as a symbol of pride."

"Oh." Loki shrugged and tossed the shirt aside. No doubt it would amuse Stark too much if he wore it. "I _told_ you this was a backwards world." The next shirt in the pile was black, with more rainbow, but an entirely different design. This was the outline of a horse, with the words "20% Cooler." Loki nodded in satisfaction. "It's rather reminiscent of Sleipnir."

Thor nodded. "I thought so as well. I told Stark you might like it."

That made Loki reconsider, briefly, that _Thor_ had picked it out. But it appealed to him anyway, so he changed into it. "I'll have you know, however, that I am far more than a mere twenty-percent better than any of these humans you associate with."

Thor smiled and dropped a hand onto Loki's shoulder. "Oh, brother, they are such a wondrous people. Perhaps someday you will see."

"Perhaps," Loki echoed, highly doubtful.

"Come on," Thor said, heading for the door. "Dinner awaits."

"Yes, of course." Loki sighed and followed. "Whatever would the Realms do if you missed a meal?"

* * *

Ultimately, Loki was probably more surprised by his response to the incident than anyone else. And Loki was _not_ one to be caught off-guard.

Barton and Romanoff had slipped off to the corner store just after dinner, something about introducing Thor to something called Rocky Road. Thor, who never turned down an opportunity to sample a local delicacy, was cheerfully awaiting their return – and speculating about this Rocky Road to Loki, who could honestly have cared less. It was an even less compelling subject to him than the movie the rest of the Avengers were watching, and Loki desperately longed for his magic so he could assume a feline form and slip out of the room unnoticed.

Jarvis interrupted both Thor's ramblings and the film, sounding remarkably urgent for a computer intelligence. "There is a call from Agent Barton on the emergency channel."

Everyone sat upright and Stark quickly paused the movie. "Put it through."

"This is Barton." The agent's voice had a rough edge to it, a sound Loki recognized as barely controlled rage. "We're in the empty lot a block south of the tower. Get Bruce. Natasha's down."

Banner retrieved the first aid kid the Avengers kept under the bar and was on his feet and running while Stark got more details. "What happened?"

"I don't have fucking _time_ to explain," Barton snapped. "Already called an ambulance. Just get here." The line disconnected.

The movie was forgotten as Rogers and Stark bolted for the door, Thor on their heels. Loki watched them retreat, then got up to follow.

Thor looked behind him, almost as an afterthought, and paused. "Loki..."

Loki held up his hands. "I mean no harm. You know what Odin left me. Trust me, brother." Belatedly, it dawned on Loki that was the first time he'd used that name on Thor without sarcasm in some time.

Thor nodded. "Then come. But we must hurry."

* * *

Bruce moved extraordinarily quickly for someone whose alter ego was a lumbering, seven-hundred pound giant. He was already crouched over Natasha when Tony arrived on scene, seconds behind Steve, who had the advantage of longer legs. "Talk to me, Banner. How's our girl?"

Bruce shook his head, one hand pressed over both of Clint's at a spot on Natasha's neck. The pressure didn't seem to be controlling the bleeding. There was blood, everywhere – beneath Natasha's neck, pooling to mix with her hair, all over Clint's hands and getting on Bruce's. "Not good."

"What the hell happened?" Tony asked, dropping to his knees beside Bruce. He offered up the first aid kit to the doctor like a surgical nurse.

"Mugger," Clint snapped. He nodded with his head toward a body crumpled in the shadows. "I was too late. He got Tasha first. Shot her in the neck when she tried to fight." The guilt in Clint's tone was undeniable, but they didn't have time to deal with that in detail.

Steve put a hand on Clint's shoulder. "You did what you could."

Clint jerked his shoulder away without removing his hands from Natasha's neck. Steve opened his mouth, then shut it, and took Natasha's hand. She was barely conscious, but her eyes opened tracked in the direction of his touch before closing again. "Come on, Natasha, keep fighting."

"Yeah." Tony managed a scoff. "You think you can give up this easy? Not an option. No _common_ _criminal_ is going to take out one of the Avengers; it's too mundane."

"I can help." A soft, accented voice. Which sounded suspiciously like Loki. Except that made no sense whatsoever.

Tony turned, seeing Loki standing next to Thor. "Yeah, right. Thor, did he follow you or something?" He had to hope Thor hadn't voluntarily let Loki out of the house; surely Thor had to have at least an ounce of good judgment.

Clint practically growled at Loki. "Don't you touch her."

Thor held his hands out, as if seeking peace. "Loki does possess great healing energy. The All-Father left it to him in case it was needed. I have seen him work many wonders. Please, let him try."

Bruce looked unsure, but he glanced down at Natasha, who had lost consciousness entirely. "If we don't get her blood loss under control in the next couple of minutes, I'm not sure we'll be able to get her back, never mind the bullet's damage." He looked hopeless and his eyes glinted green in the dim streetlight.

Steve looked at Clint, who shook his head, and then dropped his eyes to Natasha. Sighing deeply, Steve moved out of the way to give Loki access to Natasha. "If we don't let him try, she'll die."

Clint stared Loki down. "You try anything the least bit out of line and I will end you, promise or no promise."

Loki didn't even bother to be snarky. "Fine." He took a deep breath, reaching out to Natasha and closing his eyes. A soft green glow extended from his fingertips, almost identical to the glow of his eyes when he had been healing himself in the SHIELD cell after his encounter with the Hulk. It was quite a spectacle, Loki in his Rainbow Dash t-shirt, paler than ever, his hands hovered over Natasha, glowing gently in the night. But after a minute, the blood streaming between Bruce's fingers began to slow. Natasha's ragged breathing began to even out. By the time the ambulance roared up to them, there was only an angry red line marring Natasha's neck and the bullet clinked to the ground. Loki stumbled back out of the way, looking exhausted. Thor helped him to his feet and took him off to the side – good, probably, considering there were a lot of New Yorkers who would have been none to happy to recognize Loki's face.

Clint stared at Natasha as she began to stir. "Nat?"

Natasha groaned, her hand going to her neck as she muttered something in Russian. She tried to sit up, but Bruce and Clint eased her back.

"Just relax – let the medics check you out," Bruce soothed.

"Yeah." Clint nodded. "Listen to the man."

Tony made eye contact with Steve and motioned for him to keep an eye on the situation with Natasha, which seemed stable enough for Tony to leave to the professionals for a moment. Steve nodded confirmation and Tony stepped aside. The blue lights of the arriving police car were reflected in Thor's watchful eyes as he kept his brother a safe distance away from the scene.

"So, um, about that..." Tony tried to fake being casual, but it wasn't really working out as well as he'd hoped.

Thor kept his voice low for once. "Loki's healing is an essential part of his magic, but he is not a true healer. His power over others is limited; for them, he can only expend the energy in short bursts before he requires rest."

Tony waved a hand. "I do _not_ _need_ all the magical details. Just...thanks, okay?" He couldn't believe he was thanking Loki for anything, but Natasha had been at death's door and now she was fussing as the medics examined her.

Loki shrugged, leaning against the brick wall behind him. "Just be glad it was the lady and not yourself. I don't know if I could have brought myself to intervene."

Tony smirked at Thor. "Is that his way of saying 'you're welcome?'"

Thor smiled. "I believe so." He tousled Loki's hair and received a scowl in return. "Come, brother, let us retire to the tower before others arrive."

That sounded like an excellent idea to Tony. As Thor and Loki slipped away, he rejoined the crowd that had formed around Natasha. A police officer had dragged Clint off to the side to get his statement, but not far enough that Clint couldn't watch Natasha. She was protesting mightily as the paramedics insisted on dressing the wound on her neck. Bruce was feeding the paramedics some BS about an experimental healing device the Avengers were playing with, hoping they'd accept it as an explanation for the gunshot victim call, the massive amount of blood, and the mostly-fine patient. Tony stepped in, nodding as if he'd been following the entire conversation. "Very experimental. It's pretty testy, so we can't release it to the public. We weren't even sure it would work this time, but...hey, sometimes you get lucky. FM technology. It'll be the wave of the future, folks."

As the medics returned their attention to Natasha, Bruce leaned in close to Tony to ask, "Do I want to know what FM technology is supposed to be?"

Tony grinned. "Fucking magic, Brucie. It's just fucking _magic_."

* * *

When Thor and Loki got off the elevator on their floor, they had a visitor, waiting for them. Thor dropped to one knee immediately. Loki gave it a second before joining his brother. He _was_ trying to work himself back into Odin's good graces, after all. For all the hurts, for all the deceit, Odin _had_ still welcomed Loki back home. And it wasn't as if the Frost Giants would be particularly welcoming of Loki.

Odin smiled. "My sons."

Thor grinned. "I thought you still had business, Father."

"I do," Odin said. "But Heimdall called my attention to your circumstance, and family business comes before all else."

A few barbs popped into Loki's head immediately about how that was a fairly new development, but he kept his tongue. Simply because he didn't choose to do it often didn't mean he wasn't able.

"Through your actions," Odin continued, "you have proven that you can be selfless when the need arises."

Loki smiled, getting a sense of where this was going. He wished he'd put enough forethought into it to design the scheme this way; it would have been even more satisfying. But he'd acted without much thought, and it had worked out for him this time.

Odin gestured toward Loki, and Loki began to feel the familiar sensation of power returning to his cells. Oh, how he'd missed that. Before he knew it, Thor was grabbing him up in a crushing hug.

"Come home with me, my sons," Odin invited.

Thor bowed his head reverentially. "I will visit, Father, now that the Bi-Frost is repaired, but for now, I feel my place is here, protecting Midgard."

"As you wish." Odin nodded. "And, you, Loki?"

There really were many other places Loki would rather have been than confined to the Avengers Tower. "I believe I will accept your kind offer, but I would like to leave a parting gift for my gracious hosts."

"Of course," Odin agreed.

Loki chuckled to himself as he crafted his magic, creating a very special wine to suit his purposes. He ignored Thor's comments about what a nice offer it was and how Loki really must have learned something. There were times the God of Mischief truly outdid himself and this was going to be one of those. Odin surely wouldn't mind. The All-Father wasn't stupid; he knew Loki would be up to chaos and games as soon as his powers returned. It was really only world domination that was frowned upon.

Loki handled the bottle to Thor, cautioning him to follow the instructions precisely. Thor really shouldn't have been so quick to accept the gift, but he wouldn't be Thor if he didn't play right into Loki's hand. Loki accepted another overly enthusiastic hug from Thor, then departed with Odin, ready to return to the business of being royal. He hadn't entirely given up his ambitions of becoming king, but he certainly intended to be treated as a prince in the meantime.

* * *

Slowly but surely, the Avengers returned home after Natasha's close call, all wanting to put it behind them. The longest Clint left Natasha's side was to wash his hands and change his clothes, then he was glued to her side in the common room. She insisted she was fine, firmly and frequently.

Tony looked at Thor, who was retrieving glasses from behind the bar. "Where's Loki?"

"He returned to Asgard with Father," Thor said, looking proud, "but he left us a gift."

"Oh, how nice." Tony chuckled. "Odin picked his boy up early. Did you say something about a gift? It's not a can of snakes, is it?"

Thor frowned. "Why would such an item be considered a gift?"

"It's..." Rather than explain the decades-old jokes of bad clowns to an alien, Tony shook his head. "Never mind. Anyhow, what is it?" He accepted the bottle Thor handed over. "Ooh, alcohol! The best gift of all."

Thor held up a note. "The instructions say to wait until we are all gathered."

Clint rolled his eyes. "I mean, maybe I shouldn't say anything, considering what just happened, but aren't you all the least bit suspicious?"

Tony shrugged. "It's wine – a nice red one. What do you think, he poisoned it?" He reached out to Thor. "Here, get me a corkscrew. I'll sniff-test it for you all. Believe me, I know when wine doesn't smell right."

"Even alien wine?" Steve asked.

"Fine, I'll have Thor sniff it." Tony shrugged and handed the bottle to Thor, who popped the cork loose and dropped the bottle in surprise as a burst of green foam rushed out.

"Yeah, definitely not drinking that," Clint said, and it was the last thing Tony heard before the floor rushed up to meet him.

* * *

Clint supposed he owed Loki for saving Natasha. But he hated knowing who he owed it to. He picked himself up off the floor, having fallen off the couch after being hit with Loki's spell. Hiding it in a wine bottle. _Perfect_. "Nat, you okay?" He looked around for her – she'd been right next to him – but she wasn't there. "Natasha?"

There was a string of confused, high-pitched Russian from the back of the couch and Clint crawled around to find the source. He stopped, staring, at a toddler-sized girl with crimson curls and wide eyes. "Oh, _hell_, _no_." The girl jumped back, startled. "Wait, wait. Natasha?" She still looked leery and Clint reached toward her, trying to come across as gentle as possible. "Natalia?"

Apparently, using her given name was the magic key, because the girl opened up immediately, asking Clint in Russian toddler-speak who he was and if he was going to take her back to her home. It took him a minute to translate; conversations with small children were not something that had been emphasized in his language classes. He finally told her that she needed to stay close to him and he was a friend.

The others were being suspiciously quiet, and Clint reluctantly surveyed the rest of the scene. He didn't see them, but something told him to peek behind the bar, where he found two little brown-haired boys crouching together. "Oh, for fuc-" He broke off, his instincts regarding cursing in front of children kicking in, never mind that he hadn't been afforded the same luxury in his own youth. "I'm going to kill Loki." He assumed these boys were Bruce and Tony, from their looks; that meant Thor and Steve were...somewhere. Clint had no idea how long he'd been out; it seemed the mini-Avengers were recovering faster. And why had _he_ been left an adult? Loki was still screwing with him, and Clint wasn't amused. He knew nothing about children other than that their psyches could be particularly fragile.

As soon as he rounded them all up, he was going to call Fury. Not because he felt the need to report in, but they were Fury's team. In Clint's mind, that made them Fury's problem – and he figured SHIELD might at least have a better solution than tranquilizing them all until a cure was found.

* * *

_Next time, same station – Clint Barton, SHIELD babysitter. While Fury and Hill team up to undo the damage, Clint is on munchkin duty. Tying them up is not an option._


	13. The Hawk's Nest

It was just after eleven PM, and Sharon had decided to call it an early night. It was rare that she had the chance to fall asleep before midnight – and when her SHIELD-issued phone rang as soon as her head hit the pillow, she groaned, but picked up anyway. It was all part of the job. "Agent Carter."

"Carter." It was Fury. "I need you to get to the Avengers Tower. They have a...situation. You're the closest agent."

Sharon sat up, frowning. "What kind of situation? Do I need to suit up?" She had a uniform; everyone did, but she specialized in behind-the-scenes operations. She was more of a spy than a fighter.

"Hopefully not," Fury answered. "Loki cast a spell on the team and Barton needs backup. Hill is looking into a means of reversing it now."

"That doesn't sound good." Sharon began to pull her clothes on. "Where's Loki?"

"Beamed back to Asgard, it seems." Fury clearly wasn't happy, but he never was when his Avengers Initiative ran into trouble. "Get over there and see what you can do."

"On it, Boss," Sharon confirmed. She had known Clint since he was recruited to SHIELD, and he was far more clever than most people gave him credit for – and he liked to solve problems on his own when possible. Whatever was going on, if he was calling for backup, Sharon knew it had to be serious.

It wasn't until she got to the Tower that she realized it could also be adorable.

* * *

It had taken Clint nearly twenty minutes to find Thor and Steve and another fifteen to wrangle all of the children into the same room. Herding cats might have been easier.

Clint wasn't all that great at guessing the ages of small children, but Natasha had told him she was two and he took her word for it. All the others appeared to be about the same age, so Clint figured they were two, maybe three. Old enough to talk, but not always reliable with their information. Too young to be as leery of the world as Bruce seemed to be. The subject had never really come up, but Clint was starting to get the impression that Bruce's childhood had been just as spectacularly awful as Clint's and Natasha's. Clint knew that Tony had been a lonely kid, but at least he didn't have to worry about getting a beating before bedtime or a series of foster homes designed for "troubled youth."

After rounding the pint-sized Avengers up, Clint had immediately plopped them onto the couch and consulted Netflix for something child-friendly. He went with the first option that popped up.

Sharon arrived a few minutes into the second episode. She glanced at the children stuffed together on the couch, devouring the popcorn that Clint had made in hopes of keeping them still. He hoped it was okay to give two year olds popcorn. "I'm guessing this is your...situation?"

Clint nodded. "Yup, got it."

Sharon moved closer to the couch, looking the children over. "I really hope we don't have to replace that tiny arc reactor before this gets fixed."

Clint nodded. That had crossed his mind, too. "It doesn't seem like they got changed much, besides the age and mind reversal. Steve's not scrawny like his files said he was before the serum." Which was good, because the last thing Clint wanted to deal with was a sickly kid on top of all this. "I didn't poke Bruce to find out what a baby Hulk looks like. He's already scared of his own shadow as it is."

Sharon nodded, glancing at the TV. "Why are they watching 'My Little Pony'?"

Clint shrugged. "They seem to like it. Heck, it was one of Thor's favorite shows before this happened. Keeps 'em quiet and occupied."

"Does Natasha even speak English?" Sharon asked, watching as the little girl babbled at her comrades in Russian before snatching a handful of popcorn.

"Not that I can tell," Clint said, "but she keeps pointing at the screen and saying 'horse' in Russian." He'd been pretty fluent in Russian before meeting Natasha, and she had made sure to keep his language skills sharp. "Steve seems kind of mystified by everything, but I guess that's to be expected."

"Yeah," Sharon agreed, "considering he was this age in the 1920's."

"He asked me if this was a theater," Clint told Sharon. "I told him yes. I don't know how we're going to explain the rest of the place to him, or where these guys are going to sleep, or _what_. I suppose tying them up and shipping them to Fury isn't an option."

Sharon smiled. "Don't think so. He told me to help you out with them tonight."

"Tonight?" Clint asked. "What about tomorrow? Are they going to fix this by then?" He could deal with this for a few hours, take plenty of blackmail pictures, then have his friends back by dawn. But Clint doubted it was going to be that simple.

"I don't know," Sharon admitted. "We haven't exactly faced a situation like this before."

"Guess not." Clint looked over the kids again, then back to Sharon. "Just so we're clear, letting them be raised by wolves is also off the table?" Surely there had to be someone more qualified than him to manage this. He was a spy, an assassin...not a child care provider.

Sharon laughed. "Keep dreaming." She glanced at her watch. "It's pretty late. Getting them to bed might be a start."

"Yeah, about that." Clint frowned. "Where are they going to sleep?" He didn't know much about kids, but he knew enough to realize that putting them in their own bedrooms on separate floors wasn't well-advised.

"Good question," Sharon murmured. "You and Natasha have adjoining floors, right?"

"Right." Clint was still suspicious. "So we stuff them all into her bed so I can hear them if they start screaming or something?"

Sharon chuckled. "Not exactly. Aren't there couches and lounge chairs all over the place on the residential floors? I know Steve has more than he knows what to do with."

"Okay." Clint was beginning to follow her. "So we stuff each of the boys on a couch or something, put Natasha in her bed, and hope she doesn't get lost in it before morning?" Natasha allowed herself few luxuries, but now that they were in the Avengers Tower, her bed was huge and nothing short of luxurious. Clint knew he was being a bit cheeky, but he was really not prepared to deal with this and he disliked situations he was unprepared for.

Sharon shook her head. "I was going to suggest you bed most of them on your floor and if they can't all be comfortably settled there, put the older ones down on Natasha's level and set Jarvis to alert you if there's any trouble."

"I don't even know which of them are older," Clint told her, "and I'm pretty sure Jarvis was never designed to be a baby monitor."

"Technically, in this instance, that function would be construed as protecting Mr. Stark and the occupants of this tower," Jarvis said, "and that is my primary function."

"Oh, great," Clint muttered, "now the AI's a comedian." He sighed, realizing Sharon was right – the best way to keep the young Avengers out of trouble was to keep them close. "Okay, let's do this."

* * *

Clint had never particularly taken notice of the ridiculous amounts of unneeded furniture on his level of the tower, but it was proving surprisingly useful now. He put Natasha on the couch in his actual bedroom, considering he was the only one who currently spoke Russian – except maybe Jarvis. Tony was just outside the bedroom, as Clint suspected he was the one most likely to get into something he shouldn't. Bruce and Steve were on the oversized lounge down the hall, because Bruce really seemed to need a buddy and Steve was probably the most responsible of the lot. Thor had been the easiest to settle, as he found an overstuffed recliner, plopped into it, declared it was wonderful, and had promptly curled up. After scrounging up enough blankets and pillows for all and wishing them good night, Clint was finally able to crawl into his own bed. Belatedly, it occurred to him he should probably have informed Pepper of the situation, but she was in Los Angeles on a business trip and it was late even by Pacific Time. He'd call her in the morning.

At some point during the night, Clint heard a tiny voice telling him in Russian she was scared. His Russian wasn't at its best when he was half asleep, so he rolled over and patted the bed. It seemed a bit weird on some level, because he was an adult and she was a little kid unrelated to him, but it was pure and innocent and he was exhausted.

Apparently, little kids broadcasted invitations to each other on telepathic frequencies – or Clint was really that dead asleep when it was going on, which was unusual for him, because when he woke up, there was a small hand on his face. He patted it, opened his eyes to check on Natasha, and realized it was Thor. In the dim light of early morning, there was a bright blue light from the other side of the bed, and Clint turned to find Tony curled up contentedly. Natasha had somehow scooted down toward the end of the king-sized bed, where Bruce appeared to be using Steve as a security blanket.

"Guys," Clint groaned, "this is my bed, _not_ a puppy pile." Then he realized it was best to let sleeping children lie, gently extracted himself out of bed with all the grace his training had afforded him, and headed to his kitchen. Which was fully stocked, fortunately, as they all were. He put out bowls on the table, an assortment of cereal, and sank into a chair to eat his own breakfast in peace before he was faced with the pandemonium of breakfast with five toddlers.

* * *

After breakfast, Clint figured the best option was to move to the fifty-fifth floor, where he could best entertain them – or let them run around and pounce on each other, as long as there was no blood. He was beginning to seriously consider getting a preschool safety rope to shepherd them from one place to another. Loki had shrunk their clothes along with them, and they had slept in those clothes and were still wearing them, because there was nothing else in the tower to fit them. It wouldn't win Clint any babysitter of the year awards, but it wouldn't kill them, either.

Around noon, after he'd decided he absolutely couldn't watch any more children's programming and had put a Pixar film on, Clint called Fury, demanding an update. He was directed to Maria Hill, who sighed apologetically. She was usually a bit more diplomatic than the director, which was probably why she was second in command. She got to put out a lot of fires people – including Fury himself – started. "I've been searching the database for hours, but there's not exactly a lot of information out there. We haven't ever had this happen before. It's all Asgardian magic, and our best resident expert on that -"

"Is currently three feet tall," Clint finished, sighing himself. "Do we know anything?"

"I could send you a couple of books on child care," Maria suggested, and Clint honestly couldn't tell if she was joking or not. She could be like that.

"Thanks, but no." Clint shook his head. "Ms. Potts isn't due back from California until tomorrow." She had offered to come back right away, but Clint knew from Jarvis she had a pretty important speech to deliver at a conference so he told her to stay. "Are the Fantastic Four really going to blow anything up if Sharon leaves early and comes over here?" He knew the SHIELD plan was to keep this event as quiet as possible, so it didn't hit the media and create chaos. Which meant taking them to the park and letting them run wild until they wore themselves out would have been frowned upon.

"I'll see what I can do," Maria promised.

"You know," Clint said, "there are a _lot_ more agents free on the helicarrier than we have here in New York..."

Maria laughed. "Dream on, Barton. Even if Fury would authorize it, we're over Alaska."

"I could buy them little snowsuits."

Maria shook her head over the video link. "This time of year? Good luck with that. Anyhow, hang in there. We'll be in touch."

"Thanks." Clint looked around the room as the video transmission ended. Thor and Steve were wrestling and their giggles suggested they were both enjoying it. Bruce was getting a little bolder as he seemed to realize he was safe and was exploring his surroundings. Natasha was gazing wide-eyed out the window at the view of New York, and Tony had figured out how to change the TV channel and was watching, of all things, one of the old Captain America films the History Channel had been running frequently since Steve's reappearance. Of course, Tony had probably grown up on the things, given the circumstances with his father.

They _were_ kind of cute, Clint was beginning to admit to himself as he made sure to obtain those blackmail pictures for later, but he'd had his fun and he wanted his team back. Especially considering that dealing with Natasha was particularly awkward. Given their history and their wild flirtation, seeing her giggle and blow him chaste kisses was...strange. If this wasn't resolved soon, Clint was going to climb up on the roof and start screaming for Loki to get his ass back down to Earth, never mind how it might have looked to the rest of the world.

* * *

Pepper was a natural mother, even though she had explained to many, many interviewers that she was currently "childless by choice," despite not ruling out children someday. But when she got five to practice on, she pitched in to help Clint and immediately took care of things that Clint either hadn't figured out or hadn't gotten around to. She bought a couple of pairs of clothes and pajamas for each of them, saying they could donate the clothing to charity once things were back to normal. She bought an assortment of age-appropriate yet educational toys with the same explanation.

It had overwhelmed Steve's little brain at first to call adults by their first name, but Clint was not going to be "Mr. Barton," "Uncle Clint," or anything else his fellow SHIELD agents had tried to suggest when asked. Pepper had pretty much felt the same way about the group; she never minded being called Ms. Potts, but not from these guys. Tony only ever called her that when he was sucking up or being sarcastic.

It hadn't taken long to discover the whereabouts of Thor's hammer, but that had turned out to be a non-issue, as Thor couldn't lift it yet and he wasn't particularly bothered. He touched it reverently, telling anyone who would listen that his father had promised him Mjolnir when he was ready to become a warrior. Thor also didn't seem to mind Clint's snide comments about Loki, which was freeing and entertaining until Clint remembered that Thor had been a year or so older when Loki had come into the family. Then it wasn't quite so fun, because half the fun of trash-talking Loki was watching Thor jump to defend him.

With Pepper's help, and Sharon's when she was able to pop in, they had discovered a sort of equilibrium in the household. Schedules were set, sleeping arrangements were established, and Clint only occasionally found himself at the bottom of a pile of small people, usually when he made the mistake of napping on the common room couch.

It had been a little over a week, when there was a beam of light from the ceiling that was getting entirely too familiar and Loki materialized. He was dressed as a prince once more, with his green robes and leather, but thankfully without his scepter or the armor. Or the ridiculous helmet. Clint jumped to the ready as all of the kids but Thor ran behind the couch to watch warily.

"Have you come from the Bi-Frost?" Thor asked excitedly. "Are you of Asgard?" He had retained his colloquial speech patterns and it was especially amusing for a kid his size.

"Why, yes." Loki grinned and reached forward. Thor ran to him readily and Clint tensed, ready to act. He didn't think Loki would stoop low enough to harm his brother as a defenseless child, but Loki had stooped to some pretty low things.

Loki picked Thor up and Thor kissed him on the cheek in a most royal fashion. Loki made a face that Clint was going to capture from the security cameras later for his future amusement. "Well, little one. Are you ready to have your Mjolnir?" It would have been unexpectedly tender if it weren't...well, Loki.

Thor nodded excitedly. "Oh, yes. Has Father sent you?"

Loki sighed and put the boy down. "In a manner of speaking." He looked at Clint. "The All-Father apparently feels I've enjoyed my fun long enough. As much as I'd be content to leave you to your child-rearing duties, before I can go about my own business, the spell must be broken. More's the pity."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Odin let you play with us for this long?"

Loki grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Well, he _did_ make me the god of chaos and mischief. A little fun is to be expected."

"Fine, whatever." Clint waved his arm at the children. "Turn them back."

"Certainly not by _your_ command, but it must be done." Loki waved a hand and a wave of energy passed through the room strong enough to knock Clint on his ass. After it cleared, he immediately looked behind the couch, where his friends – blessedly adults again – were extracting themselves from the huddle they'd formed as children. As he'd done with the clothes the first time around, Loki had magicked them to fit their new sizes. Which Clint was also going to capture from the security footage for later use, because the image of Natasha in a frilly pink dress with "Princess" on the front was priceless.

The Avengers were examining themselves with various reactions. Mostly a lot of cursing from Tony.

"What the hell am I wearing?" Natasha looked murderous. "Loki!"

Loki scoffed. "I certainly didn't dress you. Blame the nanny."

Clint shrugged. "They actually don't make black catsuits in toddler girl sizes."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Natasha asked.

"You don't remember?" Clint replied, then looked at Loki. "Care to explain?"

Loki laughed. "Oh, no, that's your job. The beauty of that particular spell is they remember nothing. So enjoy, my minion. And think all the lustful thoughts you want about your Agent Romanoff now. I certainly would in your position."

Clint stepped close enough to Loki to grab him, just beating Natasha because he'd been closer. "First of all, I am not your damned minion. Not anymore, not ever. And you leave her the hell alone or I _will_ put an arrow through your eye."

"Oh, temper, temper." Loki grinned devilishly. "You were so much more fun when you were mine. You would have done anything and been happy to serve. You know it's true in your heart, don't you? Your heart was mine. Your body served me."

Clint had been in enough late-night impromptu counseling sessions with Natasha that Loki's talk only bothered him a little bit, especially because he knew Loki was trying to do exactly that. But he actually remembered very little of what he'd done – which was frankly all the more disturbing – and the way Loki was leering at him suddenly made Clint more than a little uncomfortable. Especially after the body comment. "You bastard. You didn't -"

Whether Loki read his mind or guessed, Clint wasn't sure. Loki pushed him away and rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Barton. In the first place, there wasn't time and you're hardly up to my standards. And the last thing I needed to chance would be _another_ child, especially a half-human one." With that, he stepped away, made a motion toward the ceiling. "Heimdall, if you please." Seconds later, Loki was whisked away by Asgardian teleportation.

Natasha came over to rub Clint's shoulder, dipping her head down to whisper, "Don't let him get to you."

Clint smiled at her. "Nah, I'm good." Though Loki's last comment had him wondering. "Thor...I may regret asking this, but...can guys get pregnant on Asgard?"

Thor laughed, looking positively ridiculous in his own "My Dad Rocks" t-shirt (with the font in a kid's scrawl), which his child self had fallen in love with the moment he saw it. "Typically, no. But there are exceptions, especially among those with shape-shifting magic, like my brother."

Clint held up a hand. "Okay, heard enough. Definitely regret asking." He looked at his friends again, taking in one last moment of entertainment. Tony seemed to be the only one who didn't care what he was wearing, but Pepper had put Tony in an Iron Man t-shirt that morning solely for her own amusement. "You guys want to, um, change or something?"

He was met with a chorus of, "Yes!" Well, except Tony.

Pepper hurried off the elevator. "Jarvis told me Loki was here. I hurried back...oh, hi." She smiled at the Avengers and stepped out of their way as four of the six made their way to the elevator. Tony settled on the couch and started channel-surfing, apparently content with his Iron Man shirt and jeans. "Well, guess we're back on track."

"Apparently. About time, too." Clint chuckled. "Guess we'll be able to donate most of it, but we'll have a hard time convincing anyone to take that last set of outfits."

"Are you kidding me?" Tony asked from the couch. "As soon as it comes out of the laundry, I'm putting that stuff on Ebay. As worn by the Avengers!"

Clint shook his head. Things really _were_ getting back to normal, even if he was going to have some explaining to do. "Yeah, and when the others come for your blood, don't look at me to protect you." Because they would. And Clint was going to enjoy it.

* * *

_Next time, as the Avengers world turns...Natasha deals with an unhappy anniversary, Clint is there to comfort her. Bruce is his usual loveable, geeky, awkward self. Tony tries to help everyone get with the happy in his own special way._


	14. The Story of a Debt

_Hey, all. Thanks again for all the support – it really makes me so happy. I apologize for not posting as regularly as I'd always like to, but sometimes life gets in the way._

_ This chapter is going to be darker, with a lot of Natasha's past, which isn't all that pretty. Clintasha vibes for sure. I debated making it its own story, but it fits in with other things I want to do with this story later, and it's my head-canon for her. As typical for this universe, I mix a touch of personal canon with movie and comic canon and get what I get. Flashbacks will be in italics – it's changing the format a bit for this chapter, but was necessary to tell the story. I hope it's not too hard to follow._

_ There is no graphic description, but there are mentions of rape and the victim's emotional aftermath. I try not to warn too much when it regards a plot point, but I know this is a particularly sensitive issue._

* * *

Clint usually braced himself and planned in advance several days before the actual date, because that was when Natasha started getting twitchy. It was only natural, and every year for the past seven years, he was ready. Even if SHIELD had them in different places, he called to check in on her, they had a video chat, something.

This year, the first that the Avengers were together, the days had completely flown by, practically unnoticed. When there weren't shenanigans, there was work. Nothing nearly as important as saving the entire city again – though Clint was sure that day would come – but minor pests, messes to clean up. Clint had taunted the guys with cute pictures of the toddler incident, henceforth known as "Thor, Your Brother Really Isn't as Funny as He Thinks He Is." Often abbreviated to, "Loki, You Suck." The pictures were made available to Natasha, but she chose to ignore them after an initial curious glance and Clint knew better than to shove them in her face. The others seemed to watch and learn Clint's skills in handling her.

So, The Anniversary dawned without much fanfare. Clint woke up that morning – it was Monday, but the Avengers' work schedules made that not much of an issue – and glanced at his cell phone. Then it sunk in and he cursed himself for not even thinking of it until that very moment. He scrambled out of bed, rappelled down to Natasha's level, and failed to find her. "Shiiiiit." He sighed. "Jarvis, where's Natasha?"

"Ms. Romanoff is in the fifty-fifth floor kitchen with Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers," Jarvis answered.

"Great. Thanks." Thanking Jarvis was probably unnecessary, but it was automatic. Clint headed for the elevator. Steve wasn't too likely to set Natasha off, but with Tony, the odds were fifty-fifty. Anything could set Natasha off _that_ day. It was unusual that she'd even venture to a common area, but maybe she was trying to set a new routine. Or maybe she was just trying to distract herself.

* * *

Natasha looked relatively fine when Clint arrived in the kitchen; she was drinking a cup of coffee and watching Steve read the paper, as he did every morning. They never had been able to hook him on digital media. Clint slid into the open seat between them. "How's it going?"

Tony shrugged. "Monday the thirteenth. Garfield said it was bad news."

Clint's eyes immediately cut to Natasha, but she waved him off, mouthing, "I'm fine."

Steve folded his paper and set it on the table. "Not too much bad news today, actually. Lots of celebrity birthdays, though, if you follow that sort of thing."

Clint automatically tensed at the mention of birthdays, wanting to check on Natasha again but not wanting to overdo it and risk pissing her off. She tightened her grip on her coffee mug and rose, taking the coffee with her. "I'll see you boys later. I'm going to hit the gym." She was way too calm about it.

That might have been one of the best things for her, to work out her aggressions. Clint would join her, of course, but he allowed her to get a head start. This was their dance on The Anniversary, which was all they ever called it. Even if it _was_ a birthday, those were to be celebrated. This was another matter entirely.

Steve looked puzzled. "Is she all right?"

Clint held up his hands. "I got this, guys. Let me handle her today."

Now Steve looked concerned. "Why, what's going on?"

"It's her business," Clint said firmly, not wanting to invite discussion. "She'll be fine. Just...go easy on her, okay?"

Steve nodded, his expression indicating he got it. "We all have our rough days."

The look on Tony's face was surprisingly serious, even if his tone was glib. Of course, Clint had seen Tony's file. He knew there were some dark times in Tony's past too. "Okay, no poking around in the Widow's web today. Got it." A bit of his traditional humor crept into his eyes. "Think she'll mind if I schedule something for next week?"

"Tony!" Steve frowned disapprovingly. "Can't you _ever_ behave?"

Clint shook his head. "Next week is on you. I'll go check on her."

Natasha wasn't in the main gym on that floor, but the heavy-duty training room on the sixtieth floor also got referred to as a gym. Clint suspected that was where she'd be, since she was likely to be the only one using it that early in the day. He took the stairs, figuring it would give him a few extra minutes to think.

* * *

_It was a muggy June day in Vladivostok, and Clint just wanted to finish his mission and get the hell out of Russia. He'd been following leads all week, following the elusive trail of the infamous Black Widow. She was good, but SHIELD was better. The agency had been monitoring her for some time, even before the assassination of General Drakov and his young daughter. She'd taken out a few SHIELD agents while completing her missions and whether she had known who they were or not, it hadn't endeared her to Nick Fury. After a hospital "mysteriously" burned down in Belarus, with only a handful of survivors, Fury ordered the hit. No one who had come out of the Red Room or the Black Widow program had been particularly safe, but Romanoff had made a name for herself once she broke free. She wasn't just __**a**__ Black Widow, she was __**the**__ Black Widow, and she would work for any one for any price. She was too much of a threat, and as far as SHIELD was concerned, the only way to reduce her __risk was to kill her._

_ Clint had no feelings one way or the other. He couldn't afford to feel much of anything when he killed people for a living. He preferred to think of it as "neutralizing threats." Making the world safer. But Romanoff got him wondering, not because she was pretty – and she was – but because he could have easily been in her shoes, assassin for hire, naming his price. Phil Coulson had monitored Clint for months, then declared him a potential asset. But it could have easily gone another way._

_ Clint had to gather information before he made his kill, never mind getting her alone. He didn't like public kills, too messy, too easy to screw up. So he sipped on a really bad but cheap beer while he sat in the dark corner of a bar where Irina Vasiliev – Romanoff's alias of the month – was known to meet her contacts. He didn't have his bow – too obvious – but he was armed with more than a few knives and guns, just in case._

_ Romanoff came into the bar after an hour, exchanging words with the bartender, her back to Clint. It was the first time he'd been this close to her. She wore a long jacket over a skirt, which seemed strange in the current weather. Unless she was trying to hide weapons._

_ When she sat down, sipping on a bottle of water while she waited for someone, her jacket fell away, toward the back of her chair. Clint assessed her quickly, noting the bulge of a concealed gun. And another bulge she was probably trying to conceal._

_ "For fuck's sake," Clint muttered to himself. He definitely needed more intel. He wasn't going to abandon the mission, but there were more factors at play than he'd initially realized._

_ They hadn't told him she was pregnant._

* * *

Natasha was busy beating the crap out of a stuffed training dummy when Clint strolled into the gym. He leaned up against the wall, watching her for a few minutes. "Okay, your form's not bad, but you'd do a lot better with something that fights back."

She spun on one heel and crossed her arms over her chest. "What, like you?"

Clint shrugged. "I don't think Tony would be very happy if you used one of his robots. And they're pretty easy to take out anyways. They can't jump."

"Fine." Natasha dropped into a waiting crouch. "Do your best. And don't you dare go easy on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Clint dropped low, aiming to kick her feet out from underneath her, but she back-flipped with grace that would make an Olympic gymnast proud. They fought with practiced ease, each getting in some solid hits, but both holding back their true potential – only because their true potential was lethal. They had been going at it for half an hour at least when Clint reached out a hand to pull Natasha off the floor after putting her there. "Nat, you're wearing me out."

She glared at him, but accepted the help. "I told you not to go easy on me."

Clint touched a bruise that was already beginning to blossom on her arm. "I wouldn't call that going easy. Come on, let's hit the showers and I'll take you out somewhere."

"I don't want to go out," Natasha said, pulling a towel from the nearest shelf and tossing a second to Clint.

"Fine, then." Clint shrugged. "We'll hang around at home. You can come up to my place and watch a movie. Whatever you like. Just you and me. I'll have Jarvis block our calls."

Natasha actually smiled, if only minutely. "Okay, but only if you shower first. You stink."

Clint feigned dismay. "Did I not just say 'let's hit the showers?' We'll clean up then chill out. Come on, time's wasting. Unless you wanted to make showering a shared experience."

When she smacked him in the face with her towel, Clint began to allow himself a bit of optimism about the day.

* * *

_Two days after the sighting in the bar, Clint was trailing his target through the streets of Vladivostok. The mission was still on, and though a part of him cringed at killing a pregnant woman, he wasn't paid to question Fury. SHIELD had denied prior knowledge that Romanoff was with child. Clint never trusted them entirely, but he reminded himself of all the blood the Widow had shed._

_ He had her alone, finally, in an abandoned warehouse. She was a room away and he loaded his bow, watching her. He'd make it clean and merciful. But then, he watched her. She glanced around the room, looking watchful but resigned. She closed her eyes briefly, then looked...annoyed?_

_ "I know you're there," she called in English. "You've been following me all week. Now if you're here to kill me, I suggest you try now, so we can get this over with. If you want to walk away, now's your chance. Otherwise, you're going to get hurt."_

_ Clint nearly laughed at her arrogance, before he realized something. She knew he was there, and she'd hesitated. She'd __**given**__ him the opportunity to kill her. He wondered if she was playing her infamous mind games, then took another look at her face. She didn't have the same expressionless, determined look from the SHIELD surveillance videos. She looked...well, a lot more human. Clint lowered his bow, sticking the arrow back in the quiver, and entered the room with one hand up. He'd made his decision, even if it wasn't his to make. There was more to this woman than SHIELD realized. "Fine. You don't kill me, I don't kill you. Deal?"_

_ "Fine," she agreed, then looked him in the eye. "If this is because I'm a woman or anything related to it, I'll shoot you now."_

_ Clint grinned. "You ever thought about putting your skills to work for someone else?" He didn't even know if she'd make it past SHIELD screening, but they took a lot of unpredictables. They'd taken him. Better to have power like hers working for them. Plus, she intrigued him._

_ Clint's report to Coulson that night indicated he needed more time to assess the situation. Coulson, in his way, saw right through it. But Clint would only know that later, when he got an encrypted text the next day on his personal phone line._

_ It said, "I like your plan, but when you get back, The Boss is going to murder you."_

* * *

_ It had taken Phil Coulson, Maria Hill, and Sharon Carter to get Nick Fury to even consider altering the mission to take in the Black Widow and use her skills for good. Even then, he wasn't convinced and declared it would only be conditionally; she had to prove herself. Even **then**, Fury wasn't exactly happy with Clint for making his own call, but at least murder was off the table. _

_ Clint had managed to buy two months before bringing her to base, under the ruse that he needed time to make sure she hadn't been turning herself in as part of a bigger scheme. In actuality, in talking to her, he'd gotten her to reveal she was seven months along and he wanted to give her time to have the baby first. It would probably have been better for her to have the child at SHIELD; they had better facilities and would be able to set up an adoption plan. But Natasha was leery of SHIELD already, or any other agency, and she swore they would not be getting their hands on her baby. Adoption was her plan, but she had arrangements in mind._

_ After about a month, training her as physical restrictions allowed – and she didn't really observe many of those – and briefing her on what would be expected at SHIELD, Clint found Natasha was beginning to open up to him on a personal level. She seemed to trust him. And since she had been such an enigma to him, he really couldn't help but try to get to know more about this woman._

_ "Can I ask you something?" Clint asked over dinner – nothing special, some frozen entrees. They'd slipped across the border to a private apartment she kept in the Ukraine under one of her many aliases. Even though she was carrying small for as advanced as her pregnancy was, she'd made enough enemies that she tried to advertise her weakness as little as possible. The apartment was the only safe place she had._

_ Natasha shrugged. "Sure."_

_ "Why didn't you get an abortion?" Clint knew it was a touchy topic, one he generally tried to stay far away from. But he wondered – was it morals for her or something else?_

_ Natasha sighed and toyed with her fork. "Thought about it. Actually went to the clinic. Then I figured, I've had enough collateral damage in my life. Plus, I had a job coming up, and it was easier to do it than spend time recovering after a procedure..." She shrugged and Clint knew there had to be more to it, but he didn't pry. "My choice, right? At least that's what they say in America."_

_ "Some people." Clint took a bit of his formerly frozen peas. "It's a whole big debate, actually. Pretty much a mess. Anyhow. Mind if I ask what your plan is? Considering I'm kind of wrapped up in this now."_

_ "It's really not that complicated," Natasha said. "There's an orphanage in Fedorov. Very small town, not a lot of children. Not overcrowded like most orphanages. Good care there, from what I hear. One of the girls in my program was there before she got transferred to Moscow and chosen. They have a high adoption rate and they don't ask a lot of questions. The mamachkas are kind. It's the best I can do."_

_ "Ever considered raising the kid?" Clint asked, knowing he might be venturing into dangerous territory and prepared to defend himself against any thrown utensils. He wasn't judging, but he wanted to know. "It's not exactly the idyllic white fences, but lots of people at SHIELD have kids."_

_ Natasha's grip on her knife tensed and she shook her head slowly. "Not people like me."_

_ Clint nodded. For a woman whose reputation depended on caring for no one, it was obvious she did care about her child's welfare. Of course, that didn't surprise him at this point. Natasha tried to be cold and calculating to the world – and she was a tough one, for sure – but she still had a heart. Part of him thought she didn't trust herself enough, but deep down, he knew her plan was the best they could do given her distrust of SHIELD. It was hard enough to convince his superiors that taking in the Black Widow was a good idea; showing up with a newborn in tow would be less than ideal._

_ There were a few long moments of silence before Natasha asked, "So any more personal questions or is it my turn to interrogate you?"_

_ Clint shrugged. "Not much to tell about me. Grew up bouncing through the system with my brother, learned to fight to survive, joined a circus for a bit. Brother turned on me, went on my own for awhile...SHIELD found me."_

_ Natasha looked amused. "And how did you convince them not to kill you?"_

_ "I smiled." Clint threw her his best cheeky grin. "Actually, one of the agents thought I might be worth the risk and took me in. Like I'm doing now."_

_ "Repaying a debt?" Natasha asked._

_ Clint shook his head. "No, just trying to trust someone for once in my life, I guess." He still didn't know what exactly about her intrigued him so. Maybe it was the whole package._

_ Natasha looked surprised. "You trust me?"_

_ "I said trying," Clint pointed out. "I'm getting there. I mean, can you say you don't trust me even a little bit now?"_

_ "Well, you haven't killed me yet. That's something."_

_ "See? There you go." Clint raised his glass of water in a mock toast. "To not killing each other."_

_ Natasha rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. She tapped her glass against Clint's. "It's a start."_

* * *

Clint rubbed his face with his towel as he got out of the shower. He didn't know if it was the new environment or bravado, but Natasha seemed to be dealing better this year. So far. But seven years – and two months – together had made him realize Natasha was never comfortable with her own weaknesses, not even with him. Sometimes he had to pry a little to help her.

After dressing, Clint wandered down to Natasha's floor, this time taking the spiral staircase for a change of pace and to give her a bit of warning. Her senses were nearly as acute as his own. "Natasha?"

"I'm here." Natasha came out of her bedroom, dressed and rubbing at her hair with a towel. She tossed the towel in her hamper, then moved to sit down on the couch near her bed. Not waiting for an invitation, Clint joined her. She'd shove him off if she didn't want him that close.

"So?" Clint asked. "Too early in the morning to get drunk. Got any other plans?"

Natasha shook her head, then leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. "No, this is good."

"Okay." Clint pulled his arm free and wrapped it around her shoulders. "You hanging in there?"

"I'm fine," Natasha insisted. "August thirteenth. Comes every year. Might as well start getting used to it."

"It's not supposed to be easy," Clint pointed out. He'd done a bit of research on his own over the years. "There's a whole support network out there for birth mothers on anniversaries and holi-"

Natasha gently put a finger to his lips. "I know."

Clint had done enough poking around to realize there was even a whole debate out there as to whether they should be called biological mothers, birth mothers, first mothers, or whatever other names were out there. "I know I ask you this every year, but are you sure talking about it won't help?" He was more than happy to hold her and lend silent support, but he always wanted to do more.

"It's not going to change anything," Natasha replied. "It won't change what I did."

"You did what you felt was best to give her a good life," Clint reminded her. "That's not as horrible as you think it is. That's...a mother's love."

"I don't even deserve that name," Natasha sighed, and it was the first time she'd said it aloud. They really were making progress, despite her insistence she didn't want to talk about it. "I was so stupid. I didn't want to trust SHIELD. I could have had her here in the States, made sure she was in a home and not some orphanage..."

"The best one you knew of," Clint pointed out. "And you didn't know enough to trust us yet. And maybe she is here now. You know how popular Russian adoptions are in America."

"Or she could still be there!" The pain in Natasha's voice and face was clear and Clint would have given anything to take it away. All he could do was hold her tighter. "Celebrating her birthday, wondering if anyone will ever love her." That sounded a bit personal, and Clint knew Natasha herself had celebrated many lonely birthdays. The man who had saved her from the house fire that killed her parents had immediately dropped her into a spy training program and that was not exactly the recipe for a happy childhood.

"You did what you thought was best with what you knew." Clint pressed a gentle kiss into Natasha's hair. "You gave her the chance to live, and with what you'd been through-"

"I know, no one would have blamed me if I made another choice." Natasha was quick to parrot what Clint had told her over the years. "But you know what? I would have blamed me. I still blame myself."

This was where things got particularly dicey, emotionally speaking. Natasha's daughter hadn't been the product of any relationship she'd chosen. She'd been assigned to gather intel from a crime lord named Adrik Mikhailov. The mission had gone south quickly and when he made her, he forced her to choose between sleeping with him and her life. Natasha, naturally, had decided killing him would be the best option, but his former KGB training wasn't for nothing. He fought back, managing to finally pin her down and raped her. By the time Natasha had recovered enough to get back up and get out, he was gone. She cursed herself for her weakness every time she even tried to talk about it, swore she should have fought a little harder and snapped his neck, and Clint could only assure her those feelings were normal. She'd seen SHIELD-mandated psychologists and they'd told her the same thing.

Clint was pretty sure if he'd let Natasha go instead of trying to bring her under his wing, she'd have made the same choice about her baby. After all, the plan had been in place. But he was pretty sure that with her loner mentality, she wouldn't have anyone to comfort her on her daughter's birthday – if she'd even managed to stay alive. And Clint wouldn't have had his partner and his best friend.

"I can't change your mind," Clint said after a long but companionable silence. "I can't even pretend to know what you went through with that. But...I'm here."

Natasha looked up at him, her eyes dangerously moist. "That's all I've ever asked from you."

Clint shifted position on the couch so he could pull her against him, wrapping his arms around her entirely. He held her close, and while most of the time he couldn't have guessed at what Natasha was thinking, he was pretty sure that they were remembering the same thing.

* * *

_Clint had pushed for Natasha to at least go to the hospital, because all he knew about childbirth came from the basic emergency medical training SHIELD had put him through. But she didn't want to risk being tracked, so there they were, in her apartment, and all he could do was hold her hand and desperately hope nothing went wrong._

_ For a woman who was giving birth without painkillers, Natasha had been amazingly stoic, wincing and gripping Clint's hand, groaning but not allowing herself to scream. The walls were too thin for that. Finally, after several grueling hours, Natasha's hard work paid off. _

_ Clint supported the baby as its shoulders slid free, smiling at Natasha as he placed the newborn on her stomach while he grabbed the clamp to cut the cord. "You did it." He wanted to tell her the baby was gorgeous, like her mother, but these moments were emotionally fragile, knowing what was to come. He decided to let her save face and pretend the tears dripping from her eyes were just part of the sweat that was drenching her hair and face._

_ Natasha smiled an uncertain smile and reached out to touch her daughter's head, murmuring in Russian. She reached out and picked the little girl up, cradling her in her arms, her expression bittersweet. Clint pretended not to pay attention, wanting Natasha to have privacy, but he heard what she told her daughter, and the words would stay in his mind forever._

_ "Please forgive me someday...I do love you."_

* * *

_Two days later, when Natasha had recovered enough to travel, Clint made the journey with her and the baby to Fedorov. The orphanage wasn't hard to find, an old but sturdy building with Cyrillic scripting that translated to, "Fedorov Home for Children Number Three." Clint thought the numbering was strange because there was only one orphanage in Fedorov, but there must have been a reason._

_ Clint had been referring to the baby as "little girl" or "hey, you." He was sure Natasha had a name in mind, but she hadn't called the baby by it. He was sure she was trying to avoid getting too attached and he didn't push. It helped him keep his distance too._

_ At the orphanage, Natasha carried the baby, wrapped in her receiving blanket and wearing a light dress; it was a hot August night. Clint carried a bag with the diapers, bottle and formula they'd bought to get them through the first couple of days – and a teddy bear. He and Natasha both knew the importance for a child in an orphanage to have something of their own._

_ Clint knocked on the door, and one of the mamachkas – the "little mothers" who cared for the children – was quick to answer. She smiled, her expression knowing and sympathetic._

_ "You cannot care for her?" the woman asked in Russian._

_ Natasha nodded, closing her eyes and holding the baby out._

_ The woman took her. "Then we will care for her. And she will know she is loved, for her mother brought her to us, instead of abandoning her to be found."_

_ Natasha was obviously struggling to keep control of her emotions. "Thank you."_

_ Clint handed the bag to the mamachka. "This is for...her."_

_ She smiled. "Thank you. Are you her father?"_

_ Clint shook his head, going with the cover they'd devised – and privately cursing the baby's actual father. "No, this is my sister. I came to help."_

_ "See?" the mamachka told the baby. "You come from a good family. We will love you until you find another of your own." She looked at Natasha. "Does she have a name?"_

_ Natasha nodded. "Nikita Alianova." Russian names always had patronymics, derived from the father's name. Obviously, in this case, Natasha wasn't passing along the bastard's name so she'd given the child her own. "She was born two days ago."_

_ The mamachka smiled. "A good name. She will be strong." She shifted the baby to one arm and touched Natasha's shoulder gently. "And you must be strong."_

_ They said goodbye and made their way to a cheap hotel on the outskirts of Fedorov. There was __only one bed and so Clint volunteered to sleep on the floor, but that ended up not being necessary. He slept on the bed, fully dressed, beside Natasha that night, because she had cried herself to sleep in his arms and there was no way in hell he was waking her._

* * *

Natasha was sharing a lot more of her feelings with Clint this year, and that was a great leap of progress. The first few years, she'd been out of sorts but refused to discuss it at all. In time, she talked more. There were only a few people at SHIELD who knew about Nikita and they gave Natasha her space that time of year. All the others agents, especially the younger ones, were mostly just scared to approach the Black Widow when she was in a bad mood.

Clint didn't know if it was the increased privacy they had at the Avengers Tower or all they'd been through, but he was glad Natasha was opening up to him. She spoke only of Nikita, never the circumstances of her conception, but Clint figured that was her way of dealing and let it be. If the SHIELD shrinks wanted to make her talk about it, that was on them. He was just there to come down to comfort her when she woke from a nightmare and to always make sure he never, ever pinned her arms down at her sides when they were sparring. When she wanted to talk, he'd be there.

Clint sat holding Natasha for a long time before the clock on the wall caught his eye. "It's after noon. We could totally start drinking now. And we don't even have to leave the building!" Distracting with humor – and alcohol – was his own style, and he knew Natasha was used to it.

Natasha snorted. "We probably should resurface before someone gets worried."

Clint nodded. "You know, they would totally understand if you told them. They wouldn't judge you."

"I know," Natasha said. "Maybe I will someday. I just...I don't want sympathy."

That, Clint could relate to. It was mostly why he didn't talk about his childhood if he could avoid it. Everyone seemed to want to feel sorry for him and he wasn't looking for that at all. "Okay. It's your call." He took in a breath, a thought entering his mind. "Is it okay if I do some research?" He wanted to be able to give Natasha something to go on, something to reassure her Nikita was fine and she had made the best decision she could. But he wouldn't do it behind her back.

Natasha shrugged. "Sure. I guess it couldn't hurt."

Now came the part Clint wasn't as sure she'd agree to. "Listen, Bruce did a lot of work with orphans in Eastern Europe..."

Natasha met his eyes, frowning a little, but it was hard to tell if she was thoughtful or displeased. "I doubt he was ever in Fedorov. It's pretty far off the map."

"So was Bruce," Clint pointed out. "I mean, I know he'd keep it on the down-low, and maybe he'd have ideas. All I can think is to Google her name and the orphanage and I doubt that'll get me very far."

Natasha looked down at the carpet, then back to Clint. "Okay, Bruce. But no one else. Not right now."

"No one else," Clint promised. "I'll even give him the minimal amount of details. I can pretend I'm asking for a friend."

Natasha nudged his arm. "Right, like anyone ever believes that."

"But it's true this time." Clint sighed, then lifted Natasha's chin so he could look into her eyes. "Do you want me to tell you what I find out?" He knew she had her worries, but the ultimate fantasy in her mind involved Nikita happy and loved in a stable home. Like any good mother.

"Depends on what you find out." Natasha was trying to sound flippant, but she failed. Clint didn't care, though. He gave her a hug. "I'm going to go see if I can find Bruce. We still on for tonight?"

Natasha smiled. "Always." They had a tradition, every year on Nikita's birthday, continued unless the circumstances of their mission didn't allow it. "I'll meet you on the roof after dark."

"Sure thing," Clint assured her. "You get the candles; I'll bring the alcohol."

"Since when is there alcohol involved?" Natasha asked, smiling.

"Since Tony Stark's paid for it," Clint answered, returning the grin.

Natasha laughed. "I like the way you think."

* * *

As usual, Bruce was in his lab – and fortunately without Tony, who was at a Stark Industries event. He almost always welcomed visitors, though, so Clint knocked on the glass door as he strode in. "Hey, Doc."

Bruce looked up, pushing his glasses up further on his nose as he did. "Oh, hi. Something I can do for you?"

"Actually, yes." Clint grabbed a stool and pulled it up to the table Bruce was working at. "I need you to help me with some research."

"Of course." Bruce nodded. "What do you need?"

"That's the thing about it," Clint said, glancing around out of paranoid habit. "It's of a...sensitive...nature. Just between you and me, okay? Files kept out of the server and all that geeky stuff you do when you want to make something private."

"All right." Bruce was beginning to look a little more uncertain, but he didn't balk yet. "What's this about?"

"A little girl," Clint said, then smiled at the curiosity in Bruce's eyes. "Not mine. Someone I met when I was working for SHIELD, years ago. Seven years ago, actually. You used to work with orphanages; I figured you might be able to help me get the inside track in figuring out what happened to her. She was left at an orphanage in Fedorov, Russia."

Bruce chewed on his lower lip briefly. "I'm happy to help, but I'll be honest with you...orphanages in that area don't always keep the best of records. Looking for a specific child can be like searching for a needle in a haystack."

Clint had suspected as much, but that was why he'd involved Bruce. "If anyone can find that needle, man, it's you."

"How much do you know about her?" Bruce asked. "The more information I have, the better our odds."

Clint nodded. "Her name is Nikita Alianova. She was born on August – well, today, actually, in 2005. She was given to the orphanage in Fedorov on the fifteenth. There's only one in the city, or at least there was back then."

Bruce was quickly typing as Clint spoke. "It's Russia...was Alianova her last name or was that a patronymic? It might help me narrow down the search."

"Patronymic," Clint said. "Her mother didn't give her a last name." Natasha hadn't wanted her child tracked, and she knew the orphanage would assign Nikita a last name when they got her official paperwork from the government.

"Got it." Bruce smiled, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "Nikita. Good name, especially in that situation."

"How so?" Clint asked. The mamachka in Fedorov had said the same thing, but Clint assumed she was trying to ease the separation of mother and child.

"It means 'unconquerable,'" Bruce explained. "I hope she kept it."

Once he heard the meaning, Clint was even more confident Natasha had selected her daughter's name carefully. "What do you mean?"

"Some orphanages or agencies rename kids so they have English-sounding names in hopes of attracting international families." Bruce frowned. "Sometimes parents change the name when they adopt. I've always felt a child should be left with the name they were first given, unless it's something really bad, but I'm not exactly an international adoption expert."

"In other words, no one asked you." Clint chuckled. "You ever think about adopting?" With all the kids Bruce had been around and given Bruce's generous heart, he would have been surprised if it never crossed Bruce's mind.

Bruce looked wistful. "Thought about it. There were a couple of orphans in India who really caught my heart. But it's not that simple. There's paperwork, rules...and no one's really looking to adopt to the guy who might turn big and green when the kid starts pushing his buttons."

Clint rolled his eyes. There was truth to it, but it bugged him. He knew well how destructive the Hulk could be when unleashed, but Bruce had more control over him than ever. Of course, that was now. He'd learned a lot since the Avengers had assembled; they all had. "Dude, you deal with Tony every day. If that's not a lesson in patience, I don't know what is."

Bruce laughed. "Ah, I know how to handle him. And he actually behaves most of the time when he's working on something big."

"And the rest of the time?" Clint asked. He recalled a certain incident where Bruce had purposely Hulked out in the training room to practice some moves with Thor and Tony had piped in "I'm a Little Teapot" and tried to teach the Hulk to dance. It was kind of hilarious, actually – and Hulk had taken to it surprisingly well – but Bruce had sworn to destroy the footage.

"When he really bugs me, I threaten to pour his booze down the drain." Bruce shrugged, spreading his hands. "If that doesn't work, I call Pepper."

Clint nodded approvingly. "Simple but effective."

Bruce worked at the computer for a few minutes more before swiveling his chair away to look at Clint. "I've started some searches; Jarvis is helping. I've coded everything with my personal password. This'll take a little while. You're welcome to hang around and wait, but I was just working on some quantum physics simulations."

"Yeah, that's fine." It sounded absolutely boring to Clint. "I'll be back. Call me when you've got something."

"Will do." Bruce waved, then returned to his work.

Clint headed out of the lab, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he strolled down the hall. Now to find something to do to occupy his time and keep an eye on Natasha without smothering her. He wondered if Tony had managed to salvage any footage of Hulk dancing. It would be even better with the audio. _"Hulk not teapot!" _That would be sure to get a giggle out of Natasha, which she could certainly use.

If all else failed, Clint would grab the most ridiculous comedy in Tony's collection and swipe it for a private viewing on the fifty-second floor.

* * *

When Tony got home, Clint asked him about the Hulk thing. It turned out that Tony had the only remaining footage of the incident, but it was locked on one of this personal laptops, heavily encrypted in the system. He invited everyone – except Bruce, naturally, who was to remain in the dark – up to the fifty-ninth floor, the one he and Pepper typically lived on when they weren't in the top floor penthouse. The penthouse had been meant for rental use as a honeymoon suite but sometimes the tower's resident lovers made sure it didn't go unused.

After everyone had a good time cracking up over repeated viewings of the tape – even Steve, who only made a token protest about not making fun of Bruce – they regathered in the common kitchen, having been lured with Tony's promise of the Best Idea Ever.

Tony spread his arms in front of him in presentation mode, aided by the fact that he was still wearing a suit and tie. "My friends. Sometimes, life sucks. We all know this."

Clint raised his eyebrows, knowing Tony had promised to leave Natasha alone, but having no idea what the man was up to beyond that.

After a moment, Tony rolled his eyes. "The fact that _none_ of you quoted 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' is disappointing." Then he looked over the assembled group again. "Never mind. I forgot that half of you don't even know what I'm talking about. 'Life of Brian' is officially on for the next movie night."

Natasha shook her head. "What's your scheme, Stark?"

"Well, you know, Hollywood loves a rags to riches story. So we change a few details for privacy and edit what we like and, voila! It'll have humor, drama, beautiful people..." Tony gestured grandly. "I give you – Avengers, the Movie."

Steve shook his head. "I'm surprised you didn't want to make the movie about Iron Man."

Tony waved a hand. "I tried that a couple years ago. Almost had a three-movie deal, but they wanted full rights to the likeness and everything. No way."

"And you don't think that's going to happen again?" Natasha asked with a scoff.

"No, that's it!" Tony looked entirely too excited. "We design all-new uniforms just for the flick. Then they can do whatever they want with the licensing. I mean, we'll bling up the Widow's catsuit, Hawkeye can wear purple-"

Clint cut him off. "Just because Bruce refuses to wear purple pants doesn't mean I'm going to. What is your obsession with the purple, anyway?"

"Okay, fine." Tony sighed dramatically. "I can see you're not ready for this yet. Think it over and get back with me. The earlier we do this, the more creative control we have."

Thor actually looked interested. "If there were a film, would it describe the true history of Asgard, without small naked gray people?"

"Sure!" Tony gestured him closer. "I'm thinking big, bold – maybe even get that horse-nephew of yours in there, because that shit's funny..."

Clint slipped out with Natasha while Tony and Thor continued their discussion. Clint laughed. "Thor, the movie. Who the hell would play him, anyhow?"

Natasha shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. That guy from 'Hunger Games' might be able to pull it off, Katniss' boyfriend. He's got a good look."

"Her real one or the kid she went to the Games with?" Clint asked.

"Oh, the one back home, definitely." Natasha nodded. She laughed. "I needed that."

"Thought you might." Clint linked an arm around her waist as they stepped into the elevator. "You still against leaving the house? Because I need lunch, there's not much in my fridge right now, and I don't feel like getting asked to sign my life story away."

Natasha shrugged. She was obviously in a better mood and Clint was pleased to see it. "Okay, sure. What'd you have in mind?"

* * *

Going out for lunch had actually not been a bad idea. Natasha and Clint had ended up at a Peruvian chicken place a few blocks from Avengers Tower that they frequented. It was busy, but they'd managed to secure a table in the back – one with a view of the door, as Natasha could never abandon the paranoia built into her training entirely. It had saved her life on more than one occasion.

Natasha didn't honestly know if Tony had pitched his movie idea for entertainment or if he was serious, but it didn't matter. It was distraction. And as fond as she was of Bruce, Natasha had felt no shame in laughing her ass off at Hulk learning a dance best suited for the preschool set. She knew she got squirrely this time of year and sometimes as the date drew close, she just didn't want to talk about kids or deal with them, but she wasn't phobic of everything related to them. It really depended on how strong she was feeling. Some days were better than others.

Bruce thought no one understood him, but what he didn't know was that Natasha had a boiling rage inside her too. Conveniently, she didn't have the intense need to control it Bruce did, but she knew what it was like to be violently angry _all the time_. She wasn't any more, now it was just a lot of the time. She could go entire days without thinking of things she'd done or that had been done to her. But then something would set her off and she'd be in the training room destroying dummies.

Fortunately for Natasha, Adrik was not a common name in the United States. But every time she heard it, that set off an entirely different part of her, the one she had relegated to a corner of her mind. It would never go away, but she made it live there and shut up, except when it wouldn't. That part was rage, shame, sorrow, and fear – all feeding off of one another, all in different amounts at different times. Determination it would never happen again. Clint had unfortunately discovered _that_ part when he had pinned her arms to her sides during one of their earliest sparring matches, not knowing it was a trigger. She hadn't known it was a trigger until it happened, but she'd kicked him in the balls hard and was ready to rip his throat out with her fingernails before she could think rationally.

PTSD was a bitch. Natasha had a lot of soft spots and she hated that. However, she did live with people who had a magazine stand's worth of issues amongst them. They all had their strengths and weaknesses and they made the most of them.

Natasha had done some of her own research on adopted children, when she was feeling strong enough. As she'd suspected, their number one questions were always about the choices their birth parents made. She hoped the mamachkas had reminded Nikita that her mother did love her, had cared enough to deliver her personally. Nine months of bonding wasn't for naught. It was strange, because Natasha didn't feel like she was a particularly maternal person, nor did she have any desire to raise a child right now. But there was always an assertive part of her mind that insisted if the circumstances were different, she'd have been a damned good mother.

Natasha was anxious to know what Bruce would find, but a part of her feared answers. Maybe her happy-family fantasy was best. But she could handle hard truths. She supposed she would have to wait and see.

* * *

Clint hurried to Bruce's lab when he got a text that Bruce had something. "Talk to me," Clint said, after making sure the door was securely shut.

Bruce sighed. "I had Jarvis help, searching any database we could get into. And I got something from the Russian government, medical records with a lot of person details blacked out, but...most of it came from a, shall we say, unexpected source." He steepled his hands in front of him. "I can see why you wanted to keep this quiet."

Clint caught sight of the SHIELD logo on Bruce's computer screen, and he slapped his open palm against the table. "Fury swore they'd leave her alone. Of course, what should I have expected?"

"Actually, as much as I typically hate to defend SHIELD's practices, they might have been helpful in this case," Bruce elaborated. "Nikita Alianova – I'd thought that patronymic sounded familiar, even though it's not uncommon – had three different Russian families petition to adopt her. Each time, it was blocked or papers fell through."

"How is that helpful?" Clint asked, prepared to be outraged but waiting for more information.

"I'm getting to that." Bruce pointed at the screen. "I traced each of the families back and they all led to spy rings left in the wake of the KGB's dissolution."

"Shit," Clint sighed. Exactly what Natasha had feared. Maybe they did have to thank SHIELD after all. "What else do you have?"

"Here's the happier part." Bruce smiled. "After being denied to Russian families, she was made eligible for international adoption. She was adopted by a wealthy professor from New York at the age of three."

"City?" Clint asked, amazed that Nikita could be that close.

"State," Bruce clarified. "I don't know where. The trail goes cold at that point; I don't even have a name. The file just has the profession of the father and state. I don't know if they kept her name or anything."

"Why would SHIELD leave it there?" Clint asked. "If they kept an eye on her that far..."

"I don't know." Bruce shrugged. "Maybe they thought she was safe so they let her fall off the radar. This file was really, really hard to get into – harder than the Phase II stuff. Technically, only Fury and Agent Hill have access to it. They'd probably send their ninjas out for me if they knew I got into it. Backdoor left from when Tony hacked the systems on the helicarrier. So – either they're no longer watching her or everything else is in another file I _can't_ find."

"Well, it's something to go on." Clint patted Bruce's shoulder. "Thanks."

"Of course." Bruce's eyes lingered on the screen. "Does Natasha know that you told me about this?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah. She knew you'd keep her secret. And, before you say it, she knows it doesn't have to be a secret. She's working on that."

Bruce spread his hands in front of him innocently. "I wasn't going to say a word. Her business is her business. I am interested, though, just from a linguistic standpoint-"

"About Alianova?" Clint guessed.

Bruce nodded. "I know it's none of my business, but typically even single mothers follow the pattern; it's just a cultural thing. Unless the father is really bad news."

"Believe me, he is." Clint set his jaw. "It's her business to tell you if she wants. But let me just warn you that if I ever find him, after she's through with him and I put a few arrows in, I'm going to make the Hulk smash what's left."

"Fair enough," Bruce allowed, chuckling lightly.

* * *

As soon as dark fell, Clint made his way to the roof, two glasses and a bottle of one of the finest wines on the planet in tow, as promised. Natasha was waiting, leaning on the safety railing as she took in the view of the city at night. A small package of birthday candles was at her feet, along with a lighter.

"Wind's not too bad tonight," Clint observed. "Shouldn't be too hard to get them going."

Natasha picked up the supplies and moved to the chairs set up near the railing while Clint poured them each a glass of wine. The wine was new, but this was their tradition, started because it had been cheap to obtain the supplies and simple, but important to both of them over the years. They took a pack of birthday candles and took turns lighting one for each year of Nikita's life. They let one burn down to the nub before blowing it out and lighting the next.

Natasha's eyes were focused on the first candle, which she held in one hand, watching it glow against the dark. "Did you find anything?"

Clint sipped at his wine. It was very good and he was sure very expensive also. "Yeah, we did. Thought I'd save it for tonight. Seemed appropriate." He would give her details about how they obtained the information another time, as well as the parts about Russian spy rings trying to get the girl. "She's in the States. Wealthy family. New York, actually. Don't know where in the state, but it's something."

Natasha smiled, a genuine smile, and shook the first candle before it burned her fingertips. She handed the next one to Clint. "Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you about that, Tash." Clint lit his candle and smiled at her. "Bruce saved a picture – it's from her adoption file, when she was three. So, not recent, but...when you're ready, just see him. I gotta warn you, she's real pretty. Whole mass of Little Orphan Annie red curls and everything. Of course, that makes sense, going home with Daddy Warbucks and all. And there was something else."

Natasha wiped away tears, but her smile left Clint hopeful they were tears of joy. "What's that?"

"She was holding a roughly used, but familiar-looking teddy bear." Clint had misted up at that – very manly tears, he told himself. He and Natasha had bought it from a local merchant a few days before Nikita was born. It was one of a kind, so it had to be the same bear.

Natasha's tears were flowing faster now. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was uneven. "Thank you. Thank you for looking when I wasn't brave enough. I'll have to thank Bruce later..."

Clint moved over to hug her between candles two and three. "Anything for you."

The seven candles burned in the night and after they were finished, Clint stayed on the roof with Natasha, drinking the wine and talking – a little about Nikita, a little about their times together. A lot of time they just sat together silently, enjoying the company.

The wine was running low when Natasha set her glass down and turned to Clint. She was already leaning up against him, but she shifted to face him and angled her face up toward his. "Kiss me."

The request was unexpected, but they'd kissed before. They'd gotten as far as heavy petting in the past before deciding maybe they didn't want to cross that line, in case it went horribly wrong like nearly all of their prior relationships. "Okay." Clint bent his head down to kiss her, tasting the wine on her lips – and, God, she was a great kisser. He wanted more, but he pulled away after a minute. "Okay, right now I want to do a lot of things to you and none of them are PG-13."

She cocked her head, looking intrigued. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

"Well, there's that whole possibly screwing up a great partnership thing." After a second, when she didn't look away, Clint sighed. "Truth is, you know, tonight...I can't do that. You're tender, it's just...not now." He couldn't take advantage of her that way, not given her emotional state. However, if she made the same offer in a few days, all bets were off.

"You're right," Natasha admitted, settling back against him. "Why do you have to be so fucking good to me?"

Clint chuckled into her hair. "See if you say the same thing when those bruises I gave you this morning start to bloom." He held her close, enjoying the warm August night.

They sat like that together until dawn.

* * *

_ Wow, okay that was a marathon chapter. Next time around – Why James Rhodes Thinks He Might Need New Friends. Also, I'm in the mood to take requests, so make suggestions and I'll see what I can fit in._


	15. An Affair to Remember

_A few new people introduced in this chapter. Bear with me; it may not be clear at first, but they'll be important later._

* * *

Like many people of the twenty-first century, the first thing Sharon did upon waking was check her email. Since it was a Sunday morning, however, and she had nowhere to be unless there was a world-class emergency, she chose not to get out of bed and go to her computer. Instead, Sharon grabbed her phone off the nightstand and scrolled through the messages that had arrived overnight. The unexpected one was from Maria Hill, who knew how little time off most SHIELD agents got and generally respected it.

_ FYI_

_ Lt. Colonel Rhodes let us know he'll be in New York this week. I don't expect any problems, but wanted you to be aware in case something hits the fan._

_ Maria_

Sharon chuckled. It was an unofficial email if Maria was signing it so casually, but part of Maria's job was to foresee all possible disasters, ever, and plan accordingly. The odds were very good that absolutely nothing was going to go wrong; Rhodes was a level-headed man when he wasn't stuck in armor he had no control over. Sharon sent a quick reply.

_I think our biggest problem will be the size of the welcoming party Stark will throw, but I'll keep an eye out. Thanks for the heads-up._

_ Sharon_

Sharon was about to tap the send button, but paused, adding a note to the bottom of her email.

_P.S. - Please stay healthy._

It was a long-standing joke between them – more meaningful now than ever. Before Phil Coulson's death, he had been in line behind Maria to take the Deputy Director chair if anything ever happened to her. Sharon was in line after him. Neither Phil nor Sharon had wanted to leave field work, so they had made a gleeful show for some time of checking after Maria just to be sure she was all right. Eventually, it had been abbreviated to simply telling Maria to stay healthy. There was a certain poignancy to it now that Phil was gone, but tradition was upheld – in Phil's memory, if nothing else.

There were a few more emails from SHIELD employees, most of which Sharon had nothing to do with, only having been CC'd because of her inclusion in the chain-of-command email group. Then, the invite to Tony's party, which Sharon immediately RSVP'd to, partly to keep an eye on things and mostly because she didn't want to miss the fun. Steve had also extended an invitation and Sharon smiled. Even if it was because he wanted to have one more responsible party around, it was still sweet.

While it was true that there were a lot of things about the 1940's that were best left to history, Captain America was not one of them. And Sharon only hoped Steve hadn't been conscious enough to hear or remember her most unprofessional, almost fangirl-level squeal when the medics declared he was alive. Phil had gotten just as excited, but at least he'd been spared his dignity by being outside the room. That mission had been worth the arctic temperatures and getting pulled out of bed at three in the morning.

As Sharon composed a reply to Steve, thanking him for the invite, she found herself calling him her best friend. She quickly amended it to simply "friend" for fear of sounding too presumptuous but it made her think. She and Maria were friends and they got together for girl time occasionally, but they weren't exactly joined at the hip. Though they'd usually been nowhere near each other, on separate missions, Phil had been the closest thing to a best friend Sharon had for years. And now Steve was starting to step into that role. It felt right. It made her crazy life feel a little bit more normal.

* * *

It was another session of the Naughty Mommy Playgroup – held as schedules allowed, but at least monthly. There was nothing television-worthy about it, four suburban mothers who gathered, let their kids play, and kicked back and had some wine. Also, with the kids playing safely out of earshot, they could get in a little girl talk, not all of it meant for small ears. It fulfilled their need to socialize as well as providing some entertainment – because, frankly, while Clarkhaven, New York, was a wonderful place to raise a family, there wasn't a hell of a lot happening there.

Outside, the children tumbled about the lawn, wearing store-bought costumes meant to imitate their heroes. Ever since the Avengers had saved New York City – and probably the rest of the world – it seemed every child in America wanted to be like them. At the very least, Avengers fever had overtaken every child who lived on Willow Glen Court. Leah Warren chuckled as her daughter swung her plastic Captain America shield around, collaborating with her teammates. Like the other mothers, she was content to watch through the window unless things got out of hand.

"She sure does love that shield," Leah murmured, sipping at her wine. "It was one of the last ones at the store, too, so if it breaks, I'm screwed."

Her next-door neighbor, Beth Kingsley, grinned. "At least Nikki fell for the captain. Jayden took a marker and tried to color himself green while I was in the shower yesterday. Crayola says it's washable – they _lie_. It's still on his arms."

Shreya Khemani's eyes barely rose from the tabloid she was perusing. For a woman who dressed and carried herself like a princess, she was the one most likely to take things to the gutter. With an Indian accent. "Yes, but I think the bigger question here is, which one of them would _you_ want to be with?"

Candace McClellan wasted no time in putting her hand in the air, nearly spilling her wine in the process. "Dibs on the archer! That _ass_!"

Shreya snorted and flipped through her tabloid. "Yes, and I am quite sure that ass has 'Property, Natasha Romanoff' stamped on it." She showed the others a grainy picture of Romanoff and Barton at a Manhattan nightclub, as if to illustrate her point. "They're always together."

Leah shrugged. "So are Captain Rogers and that blonde woman, the one who works for the Fantastic Four. _They're_ just friends. At least he says so in all the interviews. And I should know, because I've had to record them _all_ for Nikki."

Beth nudged her. "Oh, like _that's_ such a hardship. Like daughter, like mother?"

Leah laughed. "I guess I should be lucky she's not obsessed with Stark. I'd have to edit everything before I let her see it."

"You're avoiding the question," Beth pointed out. "Would you or would you not do Captain America, assuming you weren't married and given the chance?"

Leah would have suspected they'd had too much wine, but none of them had finished more than a single glass. There was a reason for their little group's nickname. "Well, I certainly wouldn't kick him out of bed, but I've got to say I'd pick Dr. Banner." She had a weakness for shy, smart men; after all, she'd married a genetics expert. "He's just so...I don't know. He always looks like he needs a hug, if you ask me."

"Just don't startle him in the middle of the night," Candace advised with a giggle. "It might get messy." She looked at Beth. "You're kind of low on options, aren't you?" Beth was a lesbian, which was no big deal to anyone, but Candace always seemed overly fascinated by it, as if she wanted to prove how okay with it she was. Everyone had gotten used to it and let it go until Candace approached inappropriateness through ignorance.

"I can appreciate the physical attractiveness of a man, even if I have no desire to sleep with him," Beth said. "They're all pretty. I'm going to have to say Loki. He's even got a female form. And, yeah, I know, technically he started that whole mess, but he goes through these batshit spells. Then he's fine for a few centuries." She shrugged as the others turned to look at her. "What? I minored in Ancient Mythology."

"What about you?" Leah asked Shreya. "You started this. You want the man whore, the thunder god, or the American dream?"

"Oh, it's Stark all the way, no question." Shreya's eyes sparkled. "I would never need a night light again." She looked thoughtful. "The question is, how would we get them here? I wonder if they do birthday parties. Natesh will be nine soon."

Leah shook her head. "If it were that simple, I'd have just done that for Nikki's birthday. Then, while everyone was eating cake, you could have played the lonely divorcee angle and taken your chances."

It was probably a good thing the kids burst in the door twenty seconds later, demanding snacks, because the speculation could only have gone downhill from there.

* * *

James Rhodes was not sure what to expect when he arrived at Avengers Tower. The last time he'd actually visited Tony was at the Malibu mansion. They'd talked via video chat shortly before the Avengers Initiative had united, but since then, Rhodey had been off on missions or Tony had been doing something and they'd fallen out of touch for a bit. It was no big deal; it had happened before, and they always managed to touch base eventually. But now, with not only Tony but a team of superheros to deal with, Rhodey wasn't sure what awaited him.

Pepper had been reassuring, claiming the rest of the team actually kept Tony in line most of the time. She was a bit too modest, Rhodey thought; he was confident Pepper had a lot to do with that as well. Still, he was excited to see his old friend and possibly make new ones.

Tony had promised a blowout party as part of the welcoming package and that would normally have led to trouble, but Pepper had promised to keep it from getting out of hand. _"I've got help,"_ she had told Rhodey.

He wasn't going to admit it, especially not to Tony – knowing the history and potential rivalry – but Rhodey was more than a bit excited to meet Steve Rogers. His military history classes had nearly painted the man as a deity, and Rhodey was curious to find out what the real Captain America was actually like.

When he arrived at the tower, Jarvis immediately recommended Rhodey wait on the fifty-fifth floor, the common area, because Tony had indicated he was "occupied." Fairly sure that this meant Tony and Pepper were enjoying some intimate time, Rhodey was happy to heed the recommendation. Besides, it would give him a chance to meet the other Avengers on his own terms, which was kind of nice, rather than the brushed-off introductions and jabs Tony was sure to provide.

The elevator opened to an empty room, so Rhodey began to explore, soon finding the kitchen. He stopped, surprised and pleased, in the doorway. He had been looking forward to meeting Steve Rogers, but he hadn't expected his first encounter would go like this. The living legend was casually browsing a newspaper as he sat a the table, wearing workout pants and a loose white t-shirt, a half-touched bagel on the plate beside him. He seemed so...normal. Rhodey almost hated to interrupt, but then Rogers turned, smiling as he stood up and walked over to extend a hand.

"You must be Colonel Rhodes," Rogers said as he shook Rhodey's hand. "Tony's told me a lot about you."

Rhodey chuckled. "Yeah, you might want to ignore about half of that. It's an honor to meet you, Captain. And just 'Rhodey' is fine."

The captain nodded. "Suits me. Call me Steve." He gestured toward the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? I can't think of anything we don't actually have, so the sky's the limit."

_ Not surprising. _ Rhodey shook his head. "Thanks, but I grabbed a bite at the airport." He wandered to the table and slid into a chair as Steve gestured for them to sit. "Don't let me interrupt your breakfast." And even with all he'd seen and done in his time, a part of his brain was going, _I'm having a conversation with Captain America. For real._

Steve grinned, looking exactly like the Captain America promotional pictures, aside from what he was wearing. His hair was even combed the same way. "Oh, it's no problem." He took another bite of his bagel, chewing and swallowing before asking, "How long are you in town for?"

"Just a few days," Rhodey answered. "I finished up an assignment in Colorado Springs and got some down time before I'm due to report to DC. Figured I'd check in and see what Tony's gotten himself into since I saw him last."

"Oh, it's been interesting," Steve assured him. "None of the R&D floors have blown up yet, though, and we're all still alive."

"Trust me," Rhodey said, "that's an accomplishment. Ask Jarvis to show you some of the Iron Man test runs some time."

"Colonel, I'm afraid Mr. Stark has transferred those files to his private drive," Jarvis informed them.

Steve laughed. "Yeah, we found that out when Bruce wanted to study the early suit designs. Even he couldn't crack it. What happened, anyhow?"

"Let's just say there were a few holes left in his place in Malibu that weren't in the design plans," Rhodey explained. "And a few helper robots set on fire."

Steve leaned forward, his eyes delighted. "You'll have to tell me more."

And just like that, Rhodey found himself not only having a conversation with but also telling stories to Captain America. He wasn't generally a boastful man, but he was definitely going to file that away under bragging rights.

* * *

Steve, being the gentleman he was, picked Sharon up at her house for the party, even though it wasn't actually a date. He was wearing dark pants with a blue dress shirt Sharon had helped him pick out, and he looked fabulous. He smiled as Sharon opened the door. "Wow. You look great!"

"Thanks. So do you." Sharon hugged him. She had an assortment of dressy club wear outfits, from the times she'd been undercover at hangouts all over Manhattan. Also, the time Johnny had insisted she accompany him on an evening out so she could "live a little." Tony's parties rivaled the swankiest clubs in Manhattan, but the alcohol was free. "Just let me grab my purse and I'll be ready to go."

"Okay," Steve agreed.

Sharon started to turn back into the house, but stopped and glanced behind Steve to the shiny black sedan he'd driven. A little understated by Stark standards, but she knew it wasn't Steve's. He usually took a cab when he wasn't on his motorcycle. "Tony actually let you borrow one of his cars?"

Steve laughed. "No, that's Clint's. Well, technically, it's SHIELD's. He said if I mess it up, he's not out anything." He shook his head, but he was clearly amused. "Inspiring, that kind of confidence."

Sharon laughed as well and retrieved her purse, heading with Steve to the car. "So the word is that everyone who's anyone is going to be at this thing tonight. What do you know?"

"I've heard the same thing." Steve opened the passenger-side door for Sharon and waited for her to settle in before going around the car and letting himself in. "Tony says he even invited Katy Perry. I'd never heard of her, but Google says she's popular."

Sharon wasn't the least bit surprised. "I'm betting she isn't the only famous face that's going to surface."

Steve frowned a little, looking perplexed. "I guess it doesn't make sense to me. I know he's thrown some wild parties before – heck, so did Howard – but if it's to welcome his friend back into town, wouldn't a smaller gathering make sense?"

Sharon shook her head. "Oh, that's not his mindset. Tony was a _lot_ wilder before we found you, especially before he solved the palladium problem. I don't know if he was trying to put on a front or go out in style. But he was the party boy and I think he wants to show he still has it in him. That he hasn't changed."

"But he _has_ changed," Steve said. "He's far more responsible now."

"Oh, I know. Everyone knows." Sharon shrugged. "But Tony's...Tony. He built his public persona on the wild and crazy and he's got to keep up the show. Plus, he hasn't done anything this big since before the Avengers got together. I think it's just his excuse to have some fun."

Steve nodded, then laughed softly. "He's kind of like this character on a cartoon Thor watches. She's so random and she's always throwing parties."

"Oh, Pinkie Pie." Sharon was not as embarrassed as she should have been to admit she knew that. One drunken girls' night together, she and Maria had watched several episodes to see if it was anything like the show they'd watched when they were children. "Yeah, that'd definitely describe him. Thor's a brony?" Clint had mentioned that before, but she thought it was Barton sarcasm. At Steve's look, she explained, "It's a guy who likes 'My Little Pony.'"

"Oh." Steve nodded. "Yeah. At first he was just watching it because there was nothing else on but then the little pink one said something like, 'Okie dokie, Loki,' and Thor started laughing. Now he watches it when it's on, but he's not totally crazy like I've heard some people are."

"Yeah, I hear that whole thing's gotten a little strange." Sharon had made the mistake of clicking one too many links on a fan website when trying to figure out which episodes she and Maria should watch. "Word to the wise – if you ever hear or read about something called 'clopping,' do _not_ Google it."

Steve blushed, as if he had figured it out – or come close enough. "Uh...yeah, I'll take your word for it. There are a lot of strange words for...that...these days. I kinda found that out when researching those meme things." He cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject. "So, what are people supposed to do at a party like this besides drink and dance?"

* * *

Rhodey had to admit, despite the overkill, it was turning into an enjoyable party. Then he corrected himself, realizing it wouldn't be overkill until Tony popped out of a cake wearing nothing but the arc reactor. That had happened before, and Rhodey made a mental note to tell Steve _that_ story before he left town.

So far, Tony was behaving nicely, but he had Pepper on his arm and he also wasn't very drunk yet. Of course, it was barely after ten, so the night was only beginning. The seventy-ninth floor of the tower was normally Tony's private lounge; it had the connected deck intended to serve as a landing pad for Iron Man. But, as per the original design, it could be opened up for parties – especially after the renovations, when Tony had opted to open up even more space. Before the party, Tony had been too happy to give Rhodey a tour, stopping at points of interest, such as the window he'd been thrown through and the spot on the floor where Loki had been smashed.

As the evening progressed, the empty space quickly began to fill with people from around the city – and country, even. Tony had managed to fly Thor's friend Jane in, and the two were settled together on a chaise, enjoying their drinks and discussing her latest findings from the world of astrophysics.

Natasha Romanoff was knocking back vodka shots at the bar with a young man in designer clothes. He had a cocky smile and Rhodey suspected he had no idea who he was actually dealing with. Even if he'd known her as Natalie then, Rhodey had learned that woman could hold her liquor better than most men. Clint Barton hovered nearby, smirking and looking expectant.

Steve had spent most of the night near – and getting advice from – a SHIELD agent Rhodey had seen a few times. The two of them and Rhodey had been making the rounds in opposite directions and so hadn't been introduced yet, but Steve had mentioned her in passing that morning and it seemed he was fond of her. Whether they were anything more than friends, Rhodey didn't know and it wasn't his business or nature to speculate.

Bruce Banner was the only one of the Avengers who was alone, and so Rhodey gravitated toward him. The man was watching the party quietly, politely greeting those who approached, and he smiled when Rhodey came near. "Hello."

Rhodey nodded. "Doctor. How are you?"

Banner's expression was a cross between amusement and suspicion – though, given his past dealings with the military, Rhodey didn't entirely blame him. "I'm not holding the Other Guy at bay, if that's what you're worried about."

Rhodey held his hands up, shaking his head. "No, no. I'm more worried about Gary Busey making an appearance than _that_. I thought you looked lonely – or are you just a natural wallflower?"

"I'm getting used to large gatherings again," Banner admitted. "It's an adjustment. And I never was much of a partier, even...before."

That was hardly surprising. Rhodey had worked with enough scientists to know that some of them understood their experiments better than people. All reports on Banner, as well as the brief time Rhodey had known him, indicated he was a soft-spoken academic type. Not the sort one would normally find at one of Tony's full-blown parties. Tony always invited people like Banner, but they rarely chose to attend. And with Banner's personality plus experience, a little social anxiety was natural. "Don't sweat it. Give it another hour and some more alcohol, the people who just came here to get laid will have paired off, the people who came here just to get drunk will be, and it'll be a lot easier to pick out someone worth talking to."

Banner laughed. "As long as I don't have to wake up someone with no pants and a fireman's helmet on tomorrow morning, I think I'll be fine."

Rhodey grinned, catching the reference. "Didn't take you for a Southern comedy fan, Doctor."

Banner shrugged. "Just Bruce is fine. And there's a lot of things people don't know about me."

That statement was true of most people, Rhodey suspected, but especially so in Bruce's case. "Yeah? So what else you got up your sleeve? A fondness for Bulgarian folk music?" He'd just made that up, but was pleased when Bruce chuckled, shaking his head.

"No," Bruce said, "that was something my American ears never did quite get used to. But there's this Indian pop singer – interestingly enough, she's never done Bollywood – whose tunes are pretty catchy..."

* * *

It was not uncommon at Tony's parties for people to sleep where they fell, but Rhodey had slipped out to the suite Tony had set up for him before it came to that. He had actually enjoyed himself immensely – talking to Tony's team, watching Tony charm the crowd. But Tony was different. As much as he tried to insist otherwise; he had changed – and for the better. He still threw out-of-this-world parties, but he didn't feel the need to pull any stupid stunts for attention. Throughout the day, Rhodey had the chance to see Tony interacting with his comrades and though he was still Tony – attitude, bluster, and all – he had become much more of a team player than Rhodey had ever expected.

Rhodey had seen the footage of the Chitauri attack on New York and the Avengers' response. Tony had coordinated with his team, even made a major sacrifice play. It was a new side of him, one Rhodey liked. He'd have to come around more often and see how things progressed – perhaps even stay awhile longer.

Eventually, overcome with curiosity, Rhodey ventured back up to the seventy-ninth floor to survey the damage. When he found each one of the Iron Man models in their glass display cases adorned with women's underwear – and Rhodey had no idea whose, given that Tony had been with Pepper all night – he began to reconsider the advisability of hanging around for too long.

When Tony knocked on the door of Rhodey's suite, hung over and wearing only sunglasses and a pair of Iron Man boxers, entirely too eager to fill Rhodey in on the racier parts of the festivities he'd missed, it was almost comforting to realize some things hadn't changed.

At least the other Avengers were around now to keep Tony in line, because that had been far more than a one-man job.

* * *

Despite only having one good eye, Nick Fury saw nearly everything. It was Maria Hill's job to see not only what he couldn't, but stay on top of what he could. She loved her job despite the sheer magnitude of it, and she smiled fondly every time she heard a SHIELD agent wonder how she did it. She had her system and her secrets and it had worked out so far. She even got to see a little action once in awhile, though usually not under the best of circumstances.

When she logged in to her workstation on the bridge of the helicarrier to double-check that everything was as it should be, the system immediately flashed up an alert labeled eyes-only. She entered her password, then was prompted for a secondary password. Only her deepest encoded files required that. Maria looked around out of habit and had the computer send the information to the computer in her quarters.

"Director?" Maria asked calmly as she approached Fury, who stood in his usual position, surveying the bridge's activity.

Fury raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, Hill?"

"I'll be in my quarters. There's a file I need to review in private." Before Fury could ask any further questions, Maria dropped her voice to a level only Fury would be able to hear. "It has to do with Operation Crimson Liberty."

Fury's expression was unreadable, but he nodded. "Go, then. Let me know what comes of it."

As if she wouldn't do that anyway. "Of course, sir. Radio me if you need anything before I return."

Fury almost smirked – almost. "You know I will."

* * *

_Coming soon to a screen near you – Natasha bonds with Bruce, Operation Crimson Liberty goes pear-shaped, and half the Avengers get called in. The other half show up anyway._


	16. Secrets and Spies

_I'm back after being frozen in ice for a couple of weeks. Or working craploads of overtime. Whichever you believe. :) Hope this is worth the wait! Also, as I have no idea how or if the X-Men reboot will play into the MCU, I'm just going to have them as I like them in this universe – pretty much the way they were after the first movie in the X-Trilogy. They're not really in this story much, but just in case you were curious._

_ Also, for those not quite so into certain animated ponies, thanks for hanging in there; the references should abate after this chapter. But I seriously couldn't help myself._

* * *

Sharon woke in unfamiliar surroundings – not an unusual happening, given her chosen career, but on missions, her quarters were typically spartan. This bed was nothing short of opulent. Then she remembered why. As she opened her eyes and looked around at the American flag on the wall, the framed portraits of 1940's Brooklyn, Sharon couldn't help but be charmed by the décor of Steve's bedroom. It was quaint, but fitting.

Steve had been more than okay to drive by the time he and Sharon slipped out of the party, and she was pleasantly inebriated but not smashed. But they'd enjoyed a private movie together in his living room – _Casablanca. _It was one of Sharon's favorites, and despite it being from his time, Steve had been too busy fighting HYDRA to see it when it first debuted. He had been captivated, murmuring to Sharon occasionally about the war, but his eyes always glued to the screen. Sharon always teared up when Rick and Ilsa parted ways, but this time, she wasn't alone – and the man she was with wasn't teasing her for being a sap. He just smiled, his eyes watering, and handed her a tissue.

When Sharon began to nod off following the credits, Steve immediately offered to let her spend the night, saying that she could take his bed and he would sleep on the couch. Sharon had argued that the couch would be fine for her; she didn't want to kick Steve out of his own bed. Ever the gentleman, however, Steve had insisted, and so Sharon drifted to sleep in one of the most luxurious beds she'd ever seen. She was seriously beginning to consider having Pepper redecorate her bedroom, though Sharon doubted she could afford this sort of quality on a SHIELD salary. They paid well, but it was nothing by Stark standards.

Sharon extracted herself from the bed with some reluctance and headed for the living room to see if Steve was awake. She was drowning in Steve's t-shirt and the drawstring pants she'd borrowed from him were barely staying on her hips, even pulled tightly. She was an average-sized woman, but it made her feel like a stick figure. She found herself hitching the pants up every few minutes in order to avoid an awkward wardrobe malfunction. Steve wouldn't have seen anything under the t-shirt, given the length of it, but Sharon knew him and knew he would blush bright pink anyway. It had been bad enough, the time he'd gotten a glimpse of the cover of a Victoria's Secret catalog Tony had left lying around.

Steve was awake, staring at his phone with some confusion. He looked up when Sharon entered. "Oh, hi. Good morning."

"Morning." Sharon sat down on the couch beside him. "Something wrong with your phone?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, it's got a bunch of silly names in it. Some of them I recognize, but I don't get them all. And all of my regular numbers are gone."

Sharon scrolled through the contact list quickly. Some of the names she didn't know either, but most of them were characters from cartoons. She typed in her own number on the keypad and the associated contact immediately popped up: Clover. It took her a minute to figure it out, but then she remembered a kid's show about teenage spies. Sharon was pretty sure Clover had been the blonde one, and she rolled her eyes. "Someone hacked your contacts. I'm guessing Tony did it last night, since that was the last time you used your phone. He may or may not have been drunk at the time. With him, it can be hard to tell."

"That's for sure." Steve chuckled, but then looked confused. "How could he do it without having my phone?"

"Oh, there's more ways than you'd think." Sharon continued looking through the contacts, trying not to let on how entertaining she found it. "Jarvis backs up all the Stark brand phones. It could have been done wirelessly." She glanced toward the ceiling – she knew she didn't have to look any particular direction to talk to Jarvis, but there was something mentally grounding about it. "Jarvis, can you switch Captain Rogers' phone contacts back to their original labels?"

"I'm afraid that requires an authorization code," Jarvis replied.

Sharon sighed. "Typical."

Steve looked concerned. "Then how do I get them back?"

"You could get Tony to do it, but I'd suspect changing them manually would be quicker," Sharon said. "Find a number, identify it, and switch the name back." Fortunately, Steve didn't have nearly as many phone contacts as the average person.

Steve shook his head. "Great." He took his phone back, seconds before it started to ring. His eyebrows furrowed together as the caller ID flashed on the screen. "Who do you suppose 'Princess Celestia' is supposed to be?"

Sharon shrugged and held her hand out for the phone. "Let's see." Steve handed it to her and Sharon answered. Typically, only the other Avengers called Steve's personal line and as she wasn't hung over, she decided to have some fun. "Steve Rogers' answering service; how can I direct your call?" It was late enough in the morning that their being together was not automatically suspicious.

"Carter." It was Fury, and he didn't find it as funny as Steve's teammates would have.

Sharon didn't bother to try to explain her presence. Fury knew full well about Tony's party, and if he'd checked, he would have known where Sharon was anyway. All SHIELD agents and assets of any importance had subcutaneously implanted GPS markers. Theoretically, the agency only used the devices in emergencies, but when it came to his upper-tier staff, Fury occasionally tracked them for the purposes of rounding them up. Sharon had learned that from Phil. "Hey, Boss."

"It's just as well you're there; I need you too." Fury wasted no time with niceties. He rarely did. "I'm on my way to the tower. One hour, main conference room."

"Yes, sir." From Fury's tone, Sharon could tell this was about a mission. "Do I need to go home and pack?"

"No need," Fury told her. "I sent Hill to your home to grab a few things for you."

At least Maria would show some discretion when going through Sharon's underwear drawer. The last time, it had been a male agent and Sharon had been left wearing a leopard-print thong she thought she had thrown out months before. "Thanks, Boss. You think of everything." She knew Fury would hear the sarcasm in her tone, but she didn't care. "I assume you'd like to speak to the captain now?"

"You assume correctly," Fury replied.

"Here ya go." Sharon smiled and handed the phone to Steve. She only hoped the subject of the GPS trackers wouldn't come up. She hadn't exactly told Steve about those yet – partly because it hadn't come up, but because she knew he wouldn't be happy. He was the very embodiment of American freedom; having a shadowy intelligence agency tracking its people wasn't likely to sit well with him. Especially because they'd given him one of his own while he'd been unconscious. There was no way SHIELD was going to lose Captain America once they'd found him. Sharon was going to be honest with Steve when the matter was broached, but she was still trying to figure out a delicate way of addressing it.

In the meantime, she headed back to Steve's bedroom to change, because it was far less scandalous to show up to the meeting in the clothes she'd worn the night before than Steve's oversized gym wear.

* * *

Bruce was working alone in his lab when Natasha arrived, as she'd hoped. She doubted Tony would be up before noon after the previous night's party and decided to use that to her advantage. She knocked lightly on the glass door. Bruce looked up and waved for her to come in, so she did. "Hi, Bruce."

"Hello." Bruce smiled. "You're up fairly early."

Natasha noticed Bruce was wearing the same outfit he'd been in when he left the party. "Nah, it only seems that way because you probably never went to bed."

Bruce shrugged sheepishly. "I've been working with these structural isomers, and it's been driving me crazy, trying to figure out the-" He broke off, waving a hand. "Never mind. You probably don't care."

"Can it be weaponized?" Natasha asked.

Bruce frowned. "Well...no, not really."

"Then, yeah." Natasha nodded. "Don't care." There was far more to her than that, of course, but Bruce knew that and it was worth it for the look on his face.

"You're pretty chipper," Bruce observed. "I saw you put a few guys under the table last night."

"That's the beauty of good vodka," Natasha explained. "No hangover. As long as you don't contaminate it with anything else except maybe a little lemon, you're golden."

"I'll have to remember that." Ironic words for a man who rarely touched alcohol, but Bruce loved knowledge and his mind was so sharp than anything he learned was automatically filed away for future reference. Natasha admired that.

After a brief silence, punctuated by the beeps of Bruce's computer, Bruce looked away from his screen. "So what brings you here?"

That was the hard part. Natasha might have been a woman, but her emotions had been trained out of her in the Red Room. Never gone, but always denied and relegated to the back of her mind. Clint had come along and put her on the path to changing it, but she still had trouble sometimes. Especially with anyone who wasn't Clint. "I...I wanted to – no, I _needed_ to – thank you."

Bruce frowned, cocking his head slightly. His glasses slid down his nose and he nudged them back into place. "For what?"

It had been over a month since Nikita's birthday, and as much as Natasha's heart had been bugging her to come, it had taken her that long to get up the nerve. "Clint told me you helped him find out what happened to her. Nikita." It still felt strange to be able to say her name out loud, to allow herself that luxury.

"Oh." Bruce's confusion faded immediately, replaced by a warm smile. "It was no trouble. I'm glad it helped you. I only wish I could have told you more."

"Anything is better than not knowing," Natasha assured him. "It helped, trust me."

Bruce looked thoughtful. "The whole New York professor thing got me wondering, for a little bit. I did give Charles Xavier a call; he's taken in some non-mutant children who needed a home, raised them to be allies." He shook his head. "I knew it was a long shot anyway, but no. The only Russian girl that age he has was born with fangs and abandoned on suspicion of being a demon."

Natasha snorted derisively. "Stupid superstitions." At least the story had a happy ending if the child was with Xavier. "Thanks for checking. It was worth a shot."

"Of course." Bruce stepped away from his desk, brushing his hands on his pants.

Fighting the inner voice, left over from her training, that told her not to, Natasha stepped forward and pulled Bruce into a hug. She smiled when, after a surprised second, Bruce returned the gesture and held her tightly.

"Thanks," Natasha said as she pulled away, her emotions all over the map.

"Anything for a friend," Bruce assured her. "Besides, I really kind of owed you one after that whole incident with the Other Guy on the helicarrier."

Boy, did _that_ remind Natasha of many a conversation she'd had with Clint. "You should know that I don't blame you. It was all Loki, trying to turn us against each other. And even if you did owe me anything, all that research was above and beyond."

Bruce's expression was earnest. "I _wanted_ to do it. I worked with a lot of mothers in India who had to give their children up for adoption. They talked to me a lot about how hard it was, how much they would have given to know how things turned out. And you're my friend, not just some woman I met on the street. If I could ease that burden for you, even just a little..."

"You did." Natasha bit her lip, hoping the minor pain would help keep her emotions in check. Not for the first time, she wondered how someone as intrinsically good-hearted as Bruce could even possess the rage that fueled the Hulk. But she had batted her eyes and presented the very picture of innocence many times, so she knew all about the "fake it 'til you make it" philosophy. The difference between Natasha and Bruce was, his ledger was full of things caused by a monster he hadn't yet learned to control. She had known exactly what she was doing.

Clint understood, because he and Natasha shared similar philosophies. Natasha had never discussed the matter openly with Steve, but she sensed he understood as well, because he was a soldier. Thor was a warrior; he got it – and occasionally reveled in the few unclassified tales Natasha was able to share. The scientists, however, Natasha was never sure about. Tony was a little different; he had seen and done a lot of things while in the weapons business, things he later regretted. He teased Natasha about her dangerousness and unpredictability, but she knew it was meant in a friendly way. Bruce was a different sort, however. The background SHIELD had gathered on him indicated he'd grown up with a brilliant but extremely abusive father, so Natasha could see where some of that deep-seated anger had come from. But Bruce hadn't let it beat him. He had inherited his father's genius, but everything else about him was the polar opposite. And then, a lab accident later, sweet and shy Bruce turned into the monster who ravaged Harlem.

Bruce looked at Natasha, the ghost of a smile on his face, and Natasha wondered how long she'd been zoned out. "Penny for your thoughts."

Natasha gave him a crooked smile. "They're worth a hell of a lot more than that, Banner. But, sure. You asked."

Bruce chuckled. "In case you haven't noticed by now, I'm a curious sort. I'm guessing it's not all rainbows and lollipops and kittens."

"Hardly." Natasha sighed in irritation as her cell phone vibrated against her hip. She was tempted to ignore it, but she had learned from experience that if it had anything to do with work, they'd just keep calling. And if it was Clint, he'd just keep calling. A glance at the screen told her it was a SHIELD number. "Hang on, I'd better get this." Natasha swiped her finger over the phone's screen to answer it. "Yeah, it's Romanoff."

"You sound thrilled, Agent." Fury was a master of sarcasm. "Grab your gear and get ready. I have transport en route for you, Barton, and Stark. We have a situation in Vancouver."

"Sounds fun," Natasha said, her sarcasm matching the director's. It wasn't the first time only part of the team had been dispatched; it all depended on the response SHIELD had determined was appropriate to the threat level. But Tony was probably going to be more obnoxious than usual because he was hung over and Natasha didn't feel like listening to death metal and/or snarky remarks about Canada the entire trip. "Who's the target?" If diplomacy was called for, Fury surely would have sent Steve; sending two assassins and a walking weapon suggested it was about force.

"Sleeper cell." Fury sounded almost disinterested, but Natasha had known him long enough to realize he was only being matter-of-fact. It took a _lot_ to warrant any kind of strong reaction from him. "Intel says they're working on bio-weapons. Take them down; make it neat. Your briefing packets will be waiting on the plane."

Not uncommon. Natasha nodded. "Got it. I'll let Barton know. But if you expect me to go wake Stark..."

"Not to worry. I've made arrangements." Amusement had crept into Fury's tone; the kind that suggested Natasha was going to need to pull security footage later to witness the event. "Just get ready."

"Will do." Natasha hung up the phone and shrugged at Bruce. "Duty calls."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Anything interesting?"

"Nah." Natasha shook her head. "Sounds like some run of the mill terrorist wannabes." She gave Bruce another hug, this one quicker. "Thanks again. I'll see you later."

Bruce nodded. "Sure thing. Be careful."

Natasha smirked a bit as she headed out of the lab. "I always am."

* * *

Not more than a few minutes after Natasha left, Bruce got a call that informed him he was to meet Fury in the conference room, no questions answered. Bruce admittedly wasn't very good yet at pressing Fury for details the way Natasha or Steve could, but he figured if the team was being split, neither situation could be _too_ bad. At least that was what he thought at first, until the pessimist in him pointed out that it could also mean both threats were equally bad and there was no choice but to have the Avengers in two places at once.

When Bruce walked into the conference room, Steve, Thor, and Sharon Carter were already there. Fury hadn't arrived yet. Steve and Sharon were fussing over a phone, which looked like Steve's.

"Okay, so that's Pepper," Sharon said, nodding and then poking at the phone, presumably to make changes. "Candace Flynn. Huh. It kind of fits. I guess Mrs. Potts would have been too obvious."

Bruce laughed. "Dare I ask?"

Steve sighed. "Tony changed all the contacts in my phone to cartoon characters."

Sharon seemed far more entertained by it than Steve. "And he obviously put some thought into it. They kind of match, even if it's just tangential. I'm kind of intrigued by Tony's knowledge of modern cartoons, though. Unless he researched it just to pull this off."

That wouldn't have shocked Bruce, but he suspected Tony was actually more familiar with animated programming than he would have liked to publicly admit. "And how do _you_ know so much about it?" Bruce teased. "I highly doubt that was included in your SHIELD training."

Sharon grinned. "Are you kidding? Johnny is a cartoon junkie. I get paid to learn this stuff." She waved a hand at Bruce. "Oh, hey, call Steve's phone. I don't have your number memorized and I'm trying to get this sorted out."

"Sure." Bruce was curious to see what Tony had picked out for him anyway. When Steve's phone rang, he asked, "Well?"

Sharon's grin widened, before she tried – unsuccessfully – to hide her reaction. "Fluttershy."

Bruce had heard of that one, mostly from Thor. "As in the pony?"

"Only one I know of." Sharon shrugged. "It makes sense, actually. Sweet. Smart. Soft-spoken. Scary when angry."

Bruce had to smile. "I guess I can live with that."

"Not bad, all things considered," Sharon agreed. "Clint and Natasha got stuck with Moose and Squirrel, respectively. I think Tony was just mad he couldn't use Boris and Natasha without giving it away."

Thor looked decidedly pleased with himself. "I was He-Man. A warrior known for his feats of strength."

"And a prince, too," Bruce pointed out.

"Indeed?" Thor seemed delighted.

Fortunately, Fury's arrival stalled any further discussion on the subject. Bruce didn't really mind explaining He-Man to Thor, but he was getting antsy to find out what the mission was about.

Fury took command immediately upon entering the conference room, nodding to those assembled. "Gentlemen. Carter." He put his hands on the table. "Before I begin, let me be clear that none of this information is to leave the room, except as it pertains to your mission. You are to discuss this with no one but each other, myself, or Agent Hill. Am I clear?"

Bruce sighed internally as he nodded. That level of secrecy was never a good sign.

* * *

This wasn't the first time the team had been split, but as the briefing progressed, Steve began to get a little uncomfortable about it anyway. This sounded big, and with as secretive as Fury had insisted it be, Steve wanted some assurances he wasn't leading his team (or half of it) into a Phase II-level situation.

Fury activated the conference room's main display screen, grabbing the remote off the table. When he was in the tower, he tended to run the place with the ease of someone who lived there, which also made Steve nervous. A picture flashed up on the screen – obviously some sort of professional photo of a gentleman Steve would have guessed to be in his late thirties.

"This is Dr. David Warren," Fury explained. "He's a professor of genetics at Syracuse University and occasionally a consultant to SHIELD. Four days ago, he arrived in Moscow for a conference – which he has not reported to for the past two days."

Steve knew SHIELD liked to know everything about its people, but this seemed a bit extreme. "Do you follow all your occasional consultants this closely?"

"Typically, not to this extent," Fury said, "but Dr. Warren is a special case. An alert was triggered the first day he missed, when he failed to deliver his scheduled presentation. At that point, we began our attempts to locate him."

Sharon steepled her hands in front of her. "I assume you've been unsuccessful."

Fury gave her a look that suggested he wouldn't be there if they'd found Warren. "Yes, thus far. Initially, there wasn't a great deal of concern, but then a special alert was triggered in the system when Dr. Warren's wife filed a missing person report – for both Dr. Warren and their daughter. At that point, Operation Crimson Liberty was automatically reactivated."

Steve glanced to Sharon to see if she recognized the name, but her face was blank.

"Operation Crimson Liberty?" Bruce asked, frowning. He looked in Sharon's direction as well.

"I'm not familiar with that initiative," Sharon said, shaking her head.

Fury nodded. "For security, information regarding Crimson Liberty was accessible only to myself and Agent Hill."

"But that's changed." Steve hated stating the obvious, but Fury was only giving them bits and pieces of information and he didn't like it.

Fury sighed. "Yes." He brought up another picture, this one a traditional family photo. At least, Steve assumed the woman and child in the photo were Warren's wife and daughter. "Dr. Warren and his wife were experiencing infertility problems when we first encountered him. When they began their search to adopt internationally, he asked if there might be anything we could do to expedite his wife Leah's security clearance."

Bruce was studying the family photo suspiciously. "What's their daughter's name?"

Fury stared at Bruce for a long moment, which put Steve on alert. It felt like Bruce knew something Fury didn't want him to. "Her name is Nikki."

Bruce pursed his lips. "Would that be short for Nicole?" Steve knew Bruce well enough to tell Bruce didn't think that was it. That tone was as close to sarcasm as Bruce usually got in front of Fury.

Fury frowned. "Is there something you would like to share, Dr. Banner?"

To his credit, Bruce didn't flinch. "I know that a girl named Nikita was adopted from Fedorov, Russia, about four years ago to an American family from New York – and that SHIELD had been trying to protect her from several Russian spy rings. Forgive me for starting to put the pieces together."

Fury hadn't taken his eye off Bruce yet. "And how exactly did this information come up in your research, Dr. Banner? I wouldn't think it would have anything to do with theoretical physics."

"Genetics, actually," Bruce replied, calm and innocent. He'd really come a long way with his emotional control. There wasn't even the slightest hint of green in his complexion. "I was pulling all available research on Captain Rogers' DNA and those who had researched it. The file didn't appear to be related, so I put it aside, but I'm guessing now that Dr. Warren was on the project."

Fury didn't look totally convinced, but he relaxed a little. "Yes, we had consulted him in that regard. And you're correct that Nikita has been under SHIELD protection. As you probably know, the masters of the Russian spy trade tend to target children in orphanages and those on the streets – ones who won't be missed." Before any more questions could be asked – Steve was working on a few – Fury continued the briefing. "A jet will be arriving shortly to take you to Moscow. Once there, you will meet with Leah Warren and then the local authorities. Gather what intel you can."

Sharon's expression was highly doubtful. "That sounds a little...basic."

"Oh, I think you'll find more than enough to keep you occupied." Fury crossed his arms. "Our number one suspect is one of the successors to Red Orchestra." He looked at Steve. "You might know the original group better as _Die Rote Kapelle._"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I never got involved with them, but they were pretty high on HYDRA's hit list."

"Yeah." Sharon sighed. "They didn't exactly stay true to their origins. It's gone from a cause with noble intentions to a high-level crime ring. I've dealt with them before; they're nasty. Not exactly doing Trepper proud. "

"Yes," Fury agreed, "which is why we've brought you in on this."

"And here I thought it was because I was more expendable than Maria," Sharon whispered to Steve under her breath.

Fury probably heard her, but he chose to ignore it. "Dr. Warren is a valuable resource. Do what you have to in order to retrieve him and Nikita safely."

"Safely for them and not the Russians, I assume?" Sharon asked wryly.

Fury actually smiled, though only a little. "Precisely, Agent Carter."

* * *

"I don't like this," Steve announced to his team once they were in the jet, on their way to Moscow. "I know Fury said he had the others off on a separate mission, but for something like this, I don't think we should be split. These guys we're dealing with sound like bad news in a big way."

"Yeah, and why are we going to Russia without Natasha?" Sharon asked. "She knows those spy networks better than anyone else."

"I have a few theories on that," Bruce muttered.

"Please share." Thor nodded, gesturing for Bruce to go on. "It makes little sense to venture into this land without a native."

Bruce sighed. "Thor, they'd send us to _Asgard_ without _you_ if there was something they didn't want you to know."

Thor frowned at the same time Steve did. Steve was _not_ liking the vibe he was getting, and they still had hours before they even reached Moscow. "What is it you feel they do not wish the Lady Natasha to know?" Thor asked. They were still working on getting him to address his teammates less formally.

Bruce looked troubled, and he stared down at his shoes for a long moment before answering. "I'm not at liberty to say much – and not because of SHIELD. I could care less what _they_ think."

Steve leaned forward in his seat, watching Bruce's face. Not for the first time, he wished the power granted to him by the serum allowed him to read minds. But he was good at reading people, so he decided to go out on a limb. "Is this something _Natasha_ asked you not to share, then?"

Bruce nodded. "Not in so many words, but it's her business. All I can say is that she knows Nikita and she is going to be really, really pissed that she was left out of this."

Steve remembered the picture of the child and her wild red curls. He figured they weren't sisters, as Natasha's parents had died when she was five, but that didn't rule out them being relatives of some kind. Even if they weren't, she'd been snatched up by the Red Room as an orphan; maybe Natasha simply recognized herself in the girl. "So did she have SHIELD watching Nikita? And if she did, why did only Fury and Agent Hill have access to the file?" Fury had never explained exactly how Crimson Liberty got its name, and it didn't ultimately matter, but given the fiery shade of Natasha's and Nikita's hair and the goal of keeping Nikita safe, it made sense.

Bruce shook his head. "No, that's the thing. Clint asked me to unofficially look in on it because Natasha had been wondering how Nikita was doing. In case you haven't figured it out by now, that stuff I told Fury about your DNA was bullshit. I haven't gone into those files in months."

Steve smiled. He'd guessed as much. Bruce was normally pretty open with Steve when he wanted to do research about him. "So you decided to find out what SHIELD knew?"

"Actually, that was unintentional," Bruce admitted. "Tony left his backdoor into SHIELD's network open and Jarvis got in when I did an open search based on the details Clint was able to give me. I found the initial information, but everything recent was blocked; I'm guessing those files I couldn't access were related to Crimson Liberty. Natasha doesn't know SHIELD kept tracking the girl after she enlisted, unless Clint told her. He didn't even know until I told him."

Steve turned to Sharon. He trusted that she was being open with them about what she knew, but anything she was able to share would be helpful. "I know you said you didn't know anything about Crimson Liberty, but does any of this sound familiar?"

Sharon shook her head. "Not really. I was on an active team back when Natasha came into the agency. I really only hung out on the helicarrier between missions. I knew Clint had concerns when he first arrived, because he apparently made some interesting calls to the director. I wasn't lucky enough to be privy to them, but Phil said Clint was _not_ happy. Then Clint decided he was ambitious enough to take the Black Widow in, and I thought she could be an asset if he could tame her, so I put my two cents in with Fury." She shrugged. "He might have been crazy, but he was right."

"Did you ever find out what Clint was upset about?" Steve asked. He hated to feel like he was interrogating her, but he knew Sharon and Phil had been close and he hoped maybe some details had passed between them.

"Something about feeling like he didn't have the full picture," Sharon said. "I never did ask what. Didn't need to know and it didn't really affect me." She looked thoughtful. "But if she was taking care of Nikita – and this is just speculation, mind you – then Clint might have thought twice about making the kill. He's a tough nut to crack, but he's got a marshmallow heart when it comes to kids, especially if they're in trouble."

Thor nodded solemnly. "Yes, like all noble warriors, he seeks to protect the innocent."

"That was...2005, I think, the summer." Sharon looked off to one side, as if remembering. "Yeah, because that was the year Phil and Clint pulled their _Brokeback Mountain_ stunt at the Christmas party. Natasha was new; she didn't really know what to make of it."

Despite not wanting to get sidetracked, that caught Steve's attention. "Tony made me see that movie. Are you saying Clint and Agent Coulson were...?" He couldn't quite get there mentally. He could accept that it was no longer a taboo subject, but it was still something for him to get used to.

Sharon laughed. "No, they were just drunk and trying to get a rise out of Fury. It was more of a parody than anything." She smiled fondly, then redirected the conversation. "Anyhow, Nikita's – what, again, seven? She would have been a baby. Makes sense that Clint would think twice about killing a woman who was caring for a baby."

"Yeah." A train of thought began to form in Steve's mind. "Do you think there's any chance that she could be Nikita's mother?" Natasha had never mentioned having a child, but he knew she was a woman with many secrets.

Bruce didn't say anything, but his expression gave him away.

Thor might not have always been the most perceptive individual on the planet, but he obviously saw it, too. "Truly?"

Bruce sighed. "It's a really sensitive subject for her. Don't be offended that she didn't share it with you guys; I think she only let me know so she could find out what happened."

Steve honestly hadn't thought to be offended, but he could instantly think of several reasons Natasha wouldn't have been in a position to raise a child seven years ago – and why discussing the matter might be painful for her. "It's her story to tell." The others nodded in agreement. "All right, so now I'm starting to see why Russian spies would want Nikita in particular – and why they'd keep after her once she was adopted."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one that wasn't making sense to at first." Sharon glanced toward the cockpit of the jet. "Well, this just got personal."

"Yes." Thor's jaw set firmly. "I do not know all the customs of this world, but on Asgard, we would be honor-bound as warriors to protect the blood kin of our comrade."

Steve grinned. He didn't know about how other teams operated in this day and age, but theirs was special – a cut above the rest. "Oh, trust me. We will."

* * *

As soon as Jarvis had finished removing his armor, Tony stumbled to the nearest couch and flopped onto it. He didn't really need the rest so much as he wanted to make a statement, since Clint and Natasha had followed him in. "That was _so_ not worth getting dragged out of bed for, am I right?"

Clint shoved Tony's feet aside so he could sit down. "Seriously. A probie SHIELD agent could have handled that. Alone. Heck, doesn't Canada have their own version of the FBI? CSIS or something. _They_ could have handled it!" Clint's opinion of the FBI was not particularly high, so that was saying something.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, not Avenger-worthy, that's for sure. No wonder they only sent half of us. I bet it's against Captain America's contract to send him to Canada."

"Speaking of him, where is everyone else?" Natasha asked.

"The others have left on a separate mission," Jarvis informed them.

Tony sat up. "Wait, separate mission? Is it better than ours?"

"Without experience, I wouldn't be able to say, sir."

Tony chuckled. He complained about it when it suited him, but he actually loved when Jarvis was a smartass. "Okay." He thought for a moment; Thor and Bruce didn't have SHIELD's GPS trackers, but Steve did. "Do me a favor and track down the Capsicle's GPS, would you?"

"I'm afraid my access to that function has been blocked," Jarvis reported.

Clint made a low noise in his throat. "Figures."

"Something Nick doesn't want us to know?" Tony guessed.

"Guess so." Natasha didn't look happy.

"Agent Carter is with them," Jarvis volunteered.

Tony frowned. "What does that have to do with-" Suddenly, he got it. "Jarvis, you're beautiful. Track Agent Carter."

"GPS data indicates that Agent Carter is in Moscow, Russia," Jarvis said.

"Russia?" Now Natasha _really_ looked unhappy. "What are they doing there?"

"Yeah." Clint looked suspicious. "And how did it work with Sharon?"

"She's special," Tony said cheekily. Neither Clint nor Natasha seemed to appreciate his stab at humor. "You all have the shiny new GPS chips. High-level software, easy to control. Sharon and I, however, have the old-school version. Totally different system. First-generation. It's Stark technology; still works after all these years. But, yeah, we were beta testers. Some of those chips are still in use throughout the system, but that software and Jarvis are both Stark technology from the same era. Sure, I've made a gazillion updates, but Jarvis is not shiny and new. Compatible system. Therefore, harder to block access. Bet Fury didn't think of _that_." He waited for Natasha and Clint to be impressed before it occurred to him they wouldn't admit it if they were.

"That still doesn't explain what the hell they're doing in Moscow," Natasha insisted. "Jarvis?"

"Director Fury made it eminently clear that no information was to be shared outside the conference room," Jarvis replied.

Tony scowled. "Dude, who owns you?"

"I was given an administrative-level command not to override the director's order," Jarvis said. "However, if you would like to proceed to the conference room, I would be happy to play back the security footage for you."

"Won't leave the room." Tony grinned widely. "Jarvis, you're a deviant bastard, but I love you."

"Thank you, sir."

Tony stood, gesturing his teammates toward the elevator. "Shall we?"

* * *

Nothing about Operation Crimson Liberty sounded good from the start. But when Fury got to the details, both Clint and Natasha began to get antsy. When Nikita was mentioned, Tony was pretty sure Natasha was going to have to be restrained and sedated. She was that furious.

"How _dare_ he try to keep me out of this?!" was all Tony made out of her rant before Natasha lapsed into a string of Russian obscenities and threw a punch at the Hulk-proof glass wall. It held, of course, and she snarled before winding into another tirade. Tony's Russian was a little rusty but he was still able to decipher some pretty interesting – and anatomically impossible – threats she was making. Tony was more than a little taken aback; he'd never seen Natasha like this.

"Whoa, whoa." Clint held his hands up. "Tash, we'll make some heads roll later. Right now, we figure out what's going on and we make sure that kid is safe."

Natasha was still seething, but she stopped cursing. Her arms were straight at her side, her hands balled into fists. "What do you suggest?" Her tone could have dropped the temperature of the room at least ten degrees.

Tony had no idea who Nikita was, but she was obviously someone special to Natasha. He would have to get details on the way. "Okay." Tony clasped his hands in front of him. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to pack our stuff and then we're going to hop on one of my planes and we're going to Russia. Isn't it great knowing a billionaire?"

Clint shook his head and Natasha muttered something under her breath, but neither disagreed. Within the hour, the three of them were in the air. Tony only wished he could see Fury's face when the director got the news.

* * *

_Next time – Avengers reunion! Espionage! Excitement! Ass-kicking! And more!_


	17. The Monsters are Not in Your Dreams

Leah Warren didn't know what to do with herself. All her worst nightmares were happening at once, and all she could do was sit in her hotel room and try not to think about it. She checked with the police every few hours for updates, but nothing new had come about since yesterday, when she had reported her husband and daughter missing.

David had taken Nikki out for a tour of downtown Moscow while Leah enjoyed a little mommy-pampering, hitting up a highly recommended spa. Leah was concerned when they didn't come back in time for David to make his presentation at the university. When they hadn't come back that night, with no calls, Leah had been a wreck – only to be further discouraged when she called the police and was informed it was too soon to file an official report. As soon as that deadline passed the next morning, Leah made her report and was told to return to her hotel and wait for them to call. She wasn't good at waiting.

Evening was falling, and even though the authorities had Leah's cell phone number, she didn't dare venture out of her room, not even for food. She wasn't very hungry anyway. She'd nibbled at the snacks they'd brought with them for Nikki and that had been enough.

_How could everything have gone so terribly wrong? _she wondered. Some international adoption experts insisted it was vital for a child to return to their birth country for a visit before the age of nine, and even though Nikki had just turned seven, David's Moscow conference had seemed to be a perfect opportunity. The whole family had been excited, and after the conference was over, they were staying a few extra days in order to be able to visit the orphanage Nikki had lived in before her adoption. Now, none of that mattered. Nothing mattered to Leah but getting her family back safely, then going home. She was a stranger in a strange land with only a basic grasp of the language, and the five-star hotel the university had paid for meant nothing anymore. Leah wanted to fling herself onto the overstuffed bed and sob into the silky pillowcase, but she'd done that already and she had no tears left in her. So, she waited.

Leah had nearly drifted off from sheer exhaustion when there was a knock on the hotel room door. She peered out the peephole and saw a blonde woman, vaguely familiar-looking, standing on the other side of the door. She appeared non-threatening, so Leah opened the door with the safety latch on – just in case – and peered through the crack. "Can I help you?"

"Mrs. Warren?" The woman smiled pleasantly, and she spoke with an American accent. Still, Leah was suspicious.

"Who's asking?" Leah asked, trying not to sound aggressive, but finding it hard to trust anyone at this point.

"Agent Sharon Carter, SHIELD." The woman held out an official-looking ID, and her uniform looked quasi-military. Leah began to relax a little when she recognized the eagle design on the shoulder patches from file folders her husband had brought home. She didn't have the clearance to know much, but she knew he did work for an intelligence organization – and though she wasn't officially supposed to know, she knew the agency had been the ones to direct her and David to Nikki during their quest to adopt. Leah squinted at the agency ID on the card. _Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division_. No wonder there was an acronym for it. "I'm here to help you find your family."

Those were the magic words Leah had been waiting to hear. Not _we'll do what we can_, not _you'll be hearing from us_, just someone who was wanting to help. She shut the door to undo the latch and opened it to let the woman in. "Leah Warren. You'll have to forgive me for being suspicious, Agent Carter."

The agent didn't seem fazed. "Understandable."

"Did the police call you in?" Leah asked.

Carter shook her head. "No, we operate a little differently than most agencies. An alert was triggered in the system when your husband and daughter went missing. There are certain protections and perks afforded to those who work for SHIELD."

"Then you can find them?" Leah asked. She didn't dare to pin her hopes on a woman she had just met, but there was something about the confidence Carter exuded.

Carter nodded. "I have a team with me. They're with the police now, gathering intel. They should be joining us shortly. We're not going home without finding your daughter and husband."

Leah nodded slowly. "What can I do?"

Carter pulled a small tablet computer, not much bigger than a cell phone, out of her pocket and ran her fingers across the screen. "Well, for starters, tell me everything you can about the day they went missing. No detail is too small."

Leah nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to calm her thoughts. She assessed the woman in front of her as it finally clicked where she recognized Carter from. "You work for the Fantastic Four, don't you?"

Carter looked a little surprised, but nodded. "I'm not particularly used to being recognized, but yes. It's one of my many roles."

"My daughter is obsessed with Captain America," Leah admitted. She probably wouldn't have been able to pick the woman out of a crowd otherwise.

"I see." Carter smiled. "Well, it just so happens the Captain is part of that team I mentioned."

"Nikki's gonna freak," Leah murmured, before the realization hit her that if Captain America was involved in this rescue mission, something very big and possibly terrifying was happening. "I'm going to guess it's not a PR move?"

Carter shook her head, sighing heavily. "I can't tell you much. But SHIELD has a vested interest in making sure the group we think is responsible goes down. I'm sure you've figured out by now it wasn't an accident, SHIELD leading you to Nikki."

"I'd guessed as much," Leah admitted. Why, she wasn't sure she was ready for at the moment. If an agency notable for their secrecy wanted one Russian orphan out of thousands protected... Leah hadn't given it much consideration before, too grateful for her daughter's presence to question it, but now she began to wonder. It would change nothing about her love, but she wanted all the facts – and she intended to get them, after Nikki and David were safely found. That was the first priority, and it brought Leah back to Carter's initial question. "You said you wanted the details...I'm afraid I don't have many. There was nothing unusual happening; David was just taking Nikki out to see the sights..."

* * *

The local Russian officials were cooperative, if a bit leery of the Avengers. It made Bruce think of a time he'd teased Natasha about being paranoid, and she'd smiled, telling him, _"There are two kinds of Russians – paranoid and dead."_ Bruce couldn't really blame her – or the police. American-Russian relations were interesting enough without half of the Avengers dropping in and demanding information on what superficially appeared to be a local missing persons case.

Sharon had been the logical choice to meet Leah Warren – she was far less recognizable and she had a soft touch when needed. They wanted to reassure Leah before bringing in the chaos. Bruce had been able to get by at the police station with the Russian he'd learned in college combined with the officers' basic command of English. He was going to need Sharon to help him translate some of the files they'd obtained copies of, however. He could make out most of the Cyrillic, but some of the wording appeared to be a local dialect – and Bruce knew Sharon had spent much more time in the area than she was allowed to tell him about.

Bruce slipped the photocopies of the files into his laptop bag for safe-keeping and glanced at his companions as they left police headquarters. Thor had left the bulkiest of his armor and his cape off for the time being, but he still didn't blend into a crowd – and Steve, with his star-spangled uniform, was decidedly out of place on the streets of Moscow. Bruce almost felt under-dressed, in his button-down shirt and pants. "Come on, you guys, let's get to the hotel before the Kremlin thinks we're planning an invasion." He hoped that SHIELD had given the Russian government a courtesy call to let them know they'd be in the country, but he didn't want to put money on it.

* * *

The Hotel Moskva was historic – and though signs boasted it had been recently renovated, Steve could see where the designers had been careful to maintain its original features. He supposed he appreciated that sort of thing more than the average individual. He'd heard stories about it, even in the forties – it had been a favorite of Howard Stark's. Steve could see why, given the sheer opulence of the lobby alone. Sharon had texted them the Warrens' room number, so Steve, Thor, and Bruce made their way to the elevators, ignoring the curious looks of those in the lobby.

Thor was clearly impressed. "It is nearly as grand as some residences on Asgard."

"Downright palatial by mere Earth standards," Bruce said, laughing softly. "Must be nice to be rich. Of course, I feel a bit weird saying anything, considering where we live."

"Yeah." Steve smiled as they stepped into the elevator. "Don't tell Tony they've got more marble in their lobby than he does; heaven only knows what he'd do to top it."

Bruce's grin was sly. "I suspect it would involve platinum-plated peeing angel statues over the doorway."

It said something that such an addition would no longer surprise Steve in the least. He ran his fingers through his hair, glad to have a moment of levity before diving into what was sure to be a deeply emotional mission. It was already personal, and Steve was already disturbed he had to keep it secret from the rest of his team – especially Natasha, who deserved to know the most. As a leader, Steve could see why she might be too emotionally entangled to be at the top of her game, but she could have at least been waiting at base, in the know.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing a plush carpeted hallway. Steve scanned the numbers on the doors, then headed down the hall to rendezvous with Sharon and Leah Warren. He only hoped that the Avengers being on the case would provide Mrs. Warren with some comfort rather than overwhelming her entirely.

* * *

She was alone and she was scared, and she could deal with being scared, because even cool people like Captain America got scared sometimes. And maybe she could handle being alone, because she knew she must have been alone before, at least one time, maybe in the orphanage when she was little. But that didn't mean Nikki Warren had to like it.

Nikki had been left in a room with no windows and one door that locked on the other side. In the movies, when bad people took kids, they always put them down in dark dungeons or basements, but this unfamiliar room was just as scary. Nikki didn't know when someone was going to barge in again and haul her off somewhere else, like they did this morning. Or grab her and pull her arm and shove her into a van, like they did when she was with her dad. She got to stay with her dad for a little while, but she didn't know where he was now. She hoped he was all right. She hoped he wasn't too scared. She hoped her mom wasn't too worried about them.

Actually, she did hope her mom was worried about them, just not _too_ much.

Nikki pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, wishing she had her bear, Misha. At least then she wouldn't feel so alone. He was the first thing that had ever been hers – the only thing in the orphanage that was hers alone. Her mom said the mamachkas at the orphanage made sure she kept him because he came from her birth mother. Nikki was never sure what to think about her birth mother. Some adopted kids she'd met saw their birth mothers all the time, but they were born in America. Nikki knew Russian adopted kids didn't usually get to meet their first families, but sometimes she pretended she had and it turns out she really was royalty and her dad didn't call her his "Russian princess" just because he was her dad.

The men who put Nikki in this room had said some nasty things about her family, her dad and her mom and even her. She didn't know who they were or why they were being so mean. They were always mean when they talked English. When they talked Russian, Nikki couldn't understand them, because she forgot all her Russian from when she was little. Her mom said she didn't talk that much back then anyway, so maybe she hadn't known a lot of words. She knew some words, like "da" and "nyet;" she could count to three and Misha meant "bear." It seemed kind of silly for a girl to name her bear "Bear," but Nikki didn't remember it and maybe it was because she didn't know a lot of words back then.

A man came into the room, not hurrying like so many of them did, and he stared at her. Nikki looked away, nervous. She knew it wasn't polite to stare and she didn't like the way he was looking at her, but she was too afraid to ask him to stop. He didn't move toward her, he just stared. Then he said something, and it was more Russian. Nikki didn't know if he thought she understood him or not, but he said the word "krasny" and Nikki knew that word from when her dad took her to Red Square. She wanted to ask if he was talking about her hair, because it seemed like everywhere she went, people were saying, "Oh, look at that red hair!" Nikki didn't get it; maybe if she had purple hair, it would make sense for people to be surprised. But she liked her red hair, even if the curls went a little crazy sometimes, and she liked it even more when Princess Merida came along, because she had crazy red hair, too. Her friend Kyla had a Nerf archery set and Nikki wasn't very good at it, but that was okay because she still had Merida's hair and Captain America's shield and when they played Avengers, Kyla could be Hawkeye.

Nikki stared at the floor until the man went away and she heard the door lock again. She wondered if she should have tried to make a run for it, but she'd have had to get by the man, and he looked pretty big. When she looked around, alone again, she realized the man had left a cookie on a plate. Nikki's eyes widened and she wanted it instantly, but then she thought it might be a trick or poison or something. The type of people who kidnapped little girls didn't just give kids cookies. So she left it. And she dared to move enough to reach it and dump it in the trash. But then she hurried back to her spot on the floor, because she could see the door best from there.

Every night he was home and not working somewhere, Nikki's dad sang her a song about a brave kid who fought monsters. When he wasn't home, Nikki's mom sang it or she played the CD. Her dad told her he got the CD from a friend and thought it was funny and different, just like he was looking for. And it had a futon on the floor, which was just what Nikki had slept on in the orphanage when she got too big for the baby room. Nikki was not feeling particularly brave, but she began to sing softly to herself anyway, hoping it would make her feel better. At the very least, she could close her eyes and pretend she was home in her bed with Misha. "There's a monster that lives 'neath your bed...oh, for crying out loud, it's a futon on the floor...he must be flat as a board..."

* * *

_Stay tuned for more, soon! (I actually mean in a few days this time, not weeks.) I cut this chapter shorter than originally planned because I wanted the actual Avengers reunion and rescue to play out in its own chapter, which will be much longer. Also, I'm OCD and something about it playing out in chapter 18 felt right. (I like even numbers. Am I alone in this?) Nikki's lullaby is real – it's "Good Night, Demon Slayer" by Voltaire. Which is all about a parent telling a child that, yes, monsters are real, but you'll kick all their asses if they try to mess with you._

_To all the reviewers and favorites and follows - you are awesome. I love each and every one of you. And if I didn't personally reply to your review, I apologize and thank you...I'll try to keep up with those on this chapter now that my real world has calmed down some!_


	18. Playing with Fire and Getting Burned

_Some of the Russian in this chapter will be translated in context of the story. Some is left for the end notes. I translated what was important and left anything else to add to the feel of the story. Feel free to scroll down and peek if you can't wait. And my two years of Russian in college have been mostly lost to me, so a lot of this is Google translate...I apologize to native Russian speakers for butchering the language in the translation from Cyrillic. And because I can't guarantee the translations. I tried! I wanted to get this up sooner, but I got a sinus infection, so it delayed production. :)_

_Oh, and if you've seen the deleted opening to the Avengers, you might have noticed the bitchier version of Maria Hill (to be fair, she was kind of bitchy in the comics, too). I like the version we saw in the finished film, so I'm going with that. Of course, if you ship Coulson/Hill, you can easily interpret that scene as her being pissed at Fury for getting her boyfriend killed..._

* * *

It had been no big deal to secure a vehicle upon landing in a private airfield outside of Moscow. Stark Industries had connections worldwide. It had been an issue, however, for Tony to drive. In his downtime between missions, he had configured the Mark VII to fold into an oversized briefcase like some of its predecessors, so that hadn't been the issue. Natasha had insisted on driving and Tony had not been entirely sure she wouldn't have shot him if it meant getting her way. She was still pretty pissed that Fury had left her out of the loop, and neither she nor Clint would say why.

As they zipped through Moscow traffic, weaving in and out of lanes, wherever there was room, Tony leaned forward from the back seat to ask Clint, "Are we still sure letting the angry Russian drive is a good idea?"

Natasha glared daggers at him. "_Ya zhil na etikh ulitsakh, kogda vy nosili podguzniki_."

"Well, then." Tony frowned as he translated that. "And exactly what do you mean, when I was wearing diapers?"

Natasha shrugged. "_Eto pravda._"

"I don't care if it's _true_," Tony argued. "I-" He realized that his argument was going nowhere and he turned to Clint. "Is she still too pissed off to speak English or is she just screwing with me?"

Clint shrugged. "Hard to tell sometimes. And _do_ you wear diapers?"

"I most certainly do not." Tony crossed his arms, gathering his natural pride. "Your Russian's had more practice. What did she say?"

"She said she lived on these streets while you were in diapers," Clint translated.

"Oh." Tony eyed Natasha suspiciously. They had never sat down and compared ages, and by no means did he have any desire to compete for spot of the oldest after Thor and Steve. But he was pretty convinced that Natasha was younger than him, even if her HR documents as Natalie Rushman had contained completely fake information. "Wait a minute, am I not _older_ than you?"

Clint chuckled. "You might want to avoid that question until we're far away from any Russian ninjas who _don't_ have to answer to SHIELD if you disappear."

"Oh, great. More secrets and threats," Tony sighed. "Just how I wanted this mission to start."

"We don't always get what we want," Natasha snapped, the first thing she'd said in English since they'd left Avengers Tower.

Tony could hardly argue that point with her. Nor did he want to try as she continued to maneuver the car into any space on the road it could conceivably fit.

* * *

Maria Hill rarely checked up on any agents who were not actively involved in a mission; unlike Fury, she didn't really care where they were or what they were doing if it didn't involve SHIELD business. But sometimes, she got involved anyway.

Maria rarely argued with Nick Fury. It served little purpose. When the director's mind was made up, decisions were usually final. She'd gone to bat for Clint when he'd defied orders and turned Natasha. It had been a tough one, but along with Sharon and Phil, she had finally brought Fury around. He claimed his main concern was not the Black Widow's duplicitous nature, but the Red Room's version of the Infinity Formula they had given all their trainees. Fury was old-school, not particularly trusting of Russia or its programs, and he had openly insisted he would not be responsible for bringing a Russian version of Red Skull with that kind of training into his agency. Maria had been able to see his point, but she had known he was just being himself, typically paranoid. It was the last argument of major importance Maria had managed to win. Most of the time, she had to coldly resign herself to Fury's orders, even if she didn't agree. Sometimes he was right. Sometimes he was wrong.

When it came to Crimson Liberty, it was beyond top secret for a reason, and Maria did agree with that. Natasha never asked and no one else needed to know. Nikita had to be kept safe, not only because she was Natasha's daughter, not only because she was a defenseless child, but there were too many dangerous groups with a vested interest in her. Natasha had tried, but she had never been able to conceal her pregnancy entirely.

Now that things were out in the open, however, Maria _had_ disagreed with Fury's decision to keep Natasha out of the mission entirely. They'd argued vehemently over it, until Fury had left the room, informing Maria his decision was made. She might have been a seasoned agent, but she was also a woman who down deep wanted a life and a family someday. She and Natasha weren't particularly close – Natasha wasn't particularly close to anyone at SHIELD but Clint – but Maria felt for her, as a woman. And though she would never defy Fury's orders unless a life was on the line, Maria might have accidentally forgotten about the different software that ran Sharon's GPS when she fed Jarvis a code to block anyone's access to Steve Rogers'. Tony Stark was a sneaky bastard – Maria trusted him to figure it out – and he and Sharon had been outfitted with their own chips as children, when Howard made the first prototypes. It had been designed as a protection against kidnapping threats, and the chips still functioned perfectly to this day.

When Fury found out – and he would; it wasn't a matter of _if_ – he wasn't going to be happy. But Maria genuinely had multiple other projects, threats, and missions she was following. One little slip, seemingly unintentional, could be overlooked. And she wasn't a particularly cocky woman, but she knew that, like most SHIELD employees, even when she was too much trouble to keep, she was too good to fire. With a few keystrokes, Maria called up the current locations of Agents Barton and Romanoff. As expected, they were together, and Maria didn't even have to reference the GPS coordinates to recognize them as originating in Moscow. Maria quickly erased the history of her search, then slid her personal cell phone – not the one SHIELD provided her with – and texted Barton the name of a bar. It was run by SHIELD agents as a safe haven for meetings, agents who knew to immediately forget who and whatever they saw. She slid the phone back into her pocket smoothly as Fury stepped onto the bridge and nodded to her.

Maria knew Fury better than he realized, and she was usually in step with him. She hoped she wasn't wrong this time. "Sir?"

Fury nodded, acknowledging her presence. "I've advised Captain Rogers to take his team to _Traktir na __Tsentralnaya _after they finish with Mrs. Warren."

Maria smiled. This was fairly customary for sensitive missions in the city, and though it hadn't been difficult, she was pleased she'd guessed correctly. "Good idea. It's the safest place for them to coordinate a plan."

"Exactly," Fury agreed. "Let me know if you hear anything from Agent Carter."

"Of course, sir." Maria inclined her head at him in lieu of a salute, and sharply turned to get back to her work. She trusted the captain to take care of his team and anticipate when any of their emotions might get in the way. But Fury himself had insisted that they were meant to work together, so in a devious sort of way, Maria was merely doing exactly what he wanted.

* * *

Sometimes people forgot just how long ago Steve's plane had gone down. To him, the Cold War was just another of those things he'd had to be informed of after the fact. Russia had been fighting Germany in World War II. So Steve really didn't have any misgivings about working with Russians or being in Russia. Steve figured anyone who asked about it must have been stuck on the fact that Fury was the one with concerns about Russians. Or, if they weren't SHIELD employees, they just hadn't done the historical math. It didn't matter, though. Though Steve admired Natasha's natural pride in her heritage, she struck him as being just as American as any of the other immigrants he'd known. More than that, she was his teammate and his friend. And he would follow orders, but he still wished he had her with them as he approached the bar he had been instructed to take the team to.

Though Sharon had explained the tavern was actually a SHIELD safe haven, Steve wanted Natasha around as they walked along lesser-traveled streets and through back alleys, trying to avoid making a spectacle of themselves. Sharon spoke excellent Russian and she knew the area, but even she had admitted it would be nice to have their native expert on hand.

"Are we meeting any contacts at this tavern?" Steve asked.

Sharon shook her head. "Not that I know of, unless the information is too sensitive to send electronically, even encrypted. It's just the safest place to sit down and make plans. We're virtually guaranteed to be ignored unless we're ordering drinks."

"Because alcohol and mission planning make _such_ a good combination," Bruce muttered, chuckling softly.

Sharon laughed. "Hey, when in Russia... It seemed to work for Tony."

"Planning? Since when does Tony make _plans_?" Even in Tony's absence, Steve couldn't resist.

Sharon nudged Steve playfully. "That's why we have you."

Steve smiled. He was finally starting to feel like he fit in with these new times, and little moments like that helped. He gestured toward the tavern as they approached it. It was an unassuming establishment that looked like any other local bar. "What stops locals from just dropping in?"

"Oh, they do," Sharon said, "but our agents keep a close eye on them. Those on our watch list are usually smart enough to steer clear, and when they're not, we take care of it."

It made sense to Steve. If SHIELD intended to hide in plain sight, making the tavern an exclusive club wouldn't have helped. He glanced around out of habit, checking to be sure the team was together and safely within his line of sight. Thor still tended to get distracted in new surroundings, swept up in the wonders of exploration, and Steve could certainly understand – but Thor was keener than people gave him credit for, and he was particularly determined about this mission. They all were.

Steve wasn't one hundred percent sure what they were meant to do once inside; there was more to a plan of action than just sitting around and tossing out ideas and Fury knew that. He still suspected they were going to be meeting someone. It felt like something out of a Dick Tracy comic. Steve was a soldier, not a spy. He guessed that was why Sharon had been sent with them, since Clint and Natasha had been shut out of the mission. Plans in the military were clear and open, with no one who needed to know being left out unless it was a matter of safety. Espionage was another world entirely, and not Steve's favorite one at that. He took a seat at an empty table near the back; Sharon, Bruce, and Thor followed his lead.

"So now what?" Bruce asked.

Steve had been wondering the same thing. In his day, they'd have rolled out a map on the table and highlighted strategic areas, but this wasn't a war and today's maps all seemed to be computerized. A sarcastic reply popped into his mind about waiting for Fury to yank on their strings, and he wondered if he'd been hanging around Tony too long.

Sharon brought out her tablet computer and swiped her hand over the screen, bringing up a map of Moscow with several digital pushpins on it. Though the form was new, the tactic was comfortingly familiar to Steve. "As you know, Red Orchestra was essential in the resistance movement during World War II. Officially, they disbanded when they were no longer required, but in the 1980's, some...enterprising...Soviet spy rings decided to reunite to fight the 'capitalist threat.' The movement imploded on itself before the fall of the USSR due to power struggles, and each faction went its own way. The group we're after kept the name, but they are not at all the Red Orchestra known to history. They've evolved into a highly organized crime network – and while they spend most of their time lately trading weapons and fighting with what's left of the Russian mafia, they can't be underestimated. This sect is selective; they don't take just any gangster wannabes."

"So who's running them?" Steve asked.

"No one's entirely sure," Sharon admitted. "They've specialized in keeping their upper echelon in the shadows. SHIELD's prime suspect is a former KGB operative named Adrik Mikhailov. We've made several assassination attempts, and we're not the only ones. Nearly every other crime ring _and _government agency wants him dead. The man just will not die."

Thor's jaw set. "He has not faced us before, or Mjolnir."

Sharon smiled. "Right, but don't fool yourself into thinking this will be easy. I studied this guy for months and never got near him. He may not even be involved in the kidnapping; each sect pretty much does their own thing when he's not giving orders."

"You don't sound convinced," Bruce observed.

Sharon shrugged. "Even if he didn't give the order, I don't think his hands are clean. It's too coincidental."

"How so?" Steve asked.

"Well, if you'll remember, before she joined SHIELD, Natasha had a particular talent for pissing off nearly every major crime ring _and_ government agency in Europe," Sharon pointed out. "When Fury gave the order to take her down, the rumor was she was out for Mikhailov's blood."

Bruce frowned. "That doesn't make sense. You've been wanting this guy dead and she's bent on doing it, so you have her killed?"

Sharon sighed. "It was more complicated than that. The Black Widow program had mostly been forgotten; she kept the alias because she was one of the few left alive and the only one still active in the game. She wasn't meant to be a SHIELD trophy. She was taking out our people right and left, anyone who got in her way, and after the Belarus hospital fire, Fury couldn't let her go any longer. At the time, if Mikhailov had been killed, it would have created a power vacuum and we couldn't trust that someone worse wouldn't take his place. We couldn't even prove she was after him; all we knew was that her assassination attempt failed the year before and she never left the trail."

"She doesn't take well to failure," Steve agreed. It made sense, if Natasha had tried to kill Mikhailov and failed, that she wouldn't give up so easily. And while Natasha had made enough of a name for herself that any number of people would have wanted revenge, there was a compelling case for Mikhailov being involved, at least peripherally. "And I'm guessing he doesn't take well to attempts on his life."

Sharon nodded, pulling up a grainy photo of a man entering a building. "This photo is nearly six months old, but it's the last time our cameras were able to get a shot of Mikhailov. We never could prove it, but intelligence suggested that he was behind a major weapons heist in Budapest three years ago. Clint and Natasha went in to clean it up, and they barely got out with their lives. If he's fixated on her for any reason and he managed to find out she has a child...I hate to say it, but I don't know how much time we have to find Nikki safely. Best case scenario is that he's using her as bait, to bring Natasha to him. If he finds out she isn't with us, it's hard to predict what his next move will be."

"Right." The mission dossier had indicated Red Orchestra had been one of the groups behind the three adoption petitions SHIELD had blocked before Nikki became eligible for international adoption. The Warrens had been directed to her shortly thereafter and the adoption had been processed and finalized in record time. "We need to move if we're going to keep this kid safe."

Bruce steepled his fingers on the table in front of him. "Agreed, but there's been no trail. What are we going to do, just walk up to one of their warehouses and knock on the door?" His eyes had shifted color from brown to hazel, and though Steve knew he was in control, it was a clear sign of Bruce's emotional state. Steve didn't blame him; he was worried too.

"Allow me to offer you fine people the latest in today's technology – or tomorrow's, for that matter," a familiar voice offered.

Hearing wasn't believing. Steve turned, staring at Tony Stark, who – aside from the arc reactor – looked like any other businessman in the bar, sunglasses atop his head and briefcase in hand. "Where did you come from?"

Tony grinned cheekily. "Well, you see, a man named Howard and a woman named Maria loved each other very much..."

Steve rolled his eyes. "No, seriously, how did you get here?"

"Took a jet." Tony shrugged. "Kind of amazed I got from the airport to here alive, considering the way Natasha drives..."

"She's here?" Deep down, Steve was glad for it, but that certainly complicated the situation.

"Yeah, and let me tell you, she's pretty pissed." Tony glanced at the door, as if expecting Natasha to charge inside. "Clint talked her into keeping the car running for us, but I don't know how long she'll stay there. I don't know who this kid is, but the Widow is fully ready to tear anyone who touches her apart, limb by limb. And Fury's next."

"That doesn't surprise me." Sharon stood. "I knew leaving her out of this was a mistake. How did you find out where we'd gone?"

"Stark innovations, still good after all these years." Tony patted her arm, and a knowing glance passed between them. Steve was curious, but he'd get to the bottom of it later.

A car pulled up outside the tavern nearly as soon as the team walked outside. Natasha was driving and Clint rolled down the passenger-side window, grinning as he called to them. "Get in the car, losers; we're going Avengering!"

Based on everyone's reactions, Steve guessed it to be yet another pop culture reference he was missing. At least he had Thor to be confused with. He looked at the car; Natasha and Clint were occupying the bucket seats in the front, but there was a full back seat. Still, they weren't all going to fit in the car. "I assume at this point, we're giving up on being inconspicuous?"

Tony nodded, setting his briefcase on the ground. In the light, Steve recognized it as one of the briefcases that had been modified to carry the Mark VII. "Okay, so two in the back, two in the front, and there's seven of us. Thor can take the hammer transit system. I can suit up. That leaves one question. Who wants to ride Iron Man?"

Sharon rolled her eyes fondly, nudging Tony. "I think we can squeeze three in the back seat. But thanks for offering."

"Where are we going?" Steve asked as Sharon climbed into the car. He nodded for Bruce to get in next, then looked back at Thor and Tony. They both could fly much faster than the car could travel, but he'd seen them slow it down before to keep up.

"Just follow me," Natasha growled.

Tony grinned. "Hey, she's still speaking English! That's a good sign, right?"

Steve smiled at Tony as he got into the car, pausing before he shut the door. "I wouldn't count on it."

* * *

Steve's natural instinct was to check up on his team members, but he knew asking Natasha how she was would not be well-advised until Nikki was safe. She seemed to know exactly where she was going, and with her expertise, Steve was more than happy to let her take the lead. Sharon seemed fine with it, too, which only further solidified his decision. Besides, Steve wasn't entirely sure anyone who got in Natasha's way at this point would survive.

Natasha was mostly silent, her hands wrapped around the steering wheel in a death grip, but she glanced in the rear view mirror as Sharon tried to access SHIELD's latest data on Mikhailov's whereabouts. "If that rat bastard is there, he's _mine_." Her Russian accent, usually undetectable, seemed to emphasize how serious she was.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, knowing he could be venturing into dangerous territory. "I know you have a history with him, but if he's as dangerous as the reports suggest-"

Clint held up a hand. "Trust me on this, Cap. We'll all jump in for our piece of him if there's anything left, but she needs a little alone time."

Bruce looked vaguely uncomfortable, and he gestured for Sharon's tablet. She handed it over and he called up a SHIELD report about Mikhailov. Steve only glanced at it – he didn't like reading over people's shoulders – but he was able to see that it detailed the string of failed assassination attempts, both SHIELD sanctioned and otherwise. Bruce's finger lingered on a date – November 2004 – for a moment, then he handed the tablet back to Sharon, his eyes just slightly more green than before. His complexion was unchanged, but Steve knew Bruce's blood had to be boiling. "Just save some for me."

Sharon frowned, but then she looked down at the date, tilting the screen so Steve could see it – the estimated date of Natasha's attempt to kill Mikhailov. She focused on it, looking around at the others, then began to count silently on her fingers. Steve was puzzled, but when she stopped at nine, he began to follow her logic. Nikki was born in August 2005. November was nine months earlier. Sharon met Steve's eyes, her expression both sorrowful and determined.

Steve knew Natasha had earned her alias by killing men she slept with, but he also knew she took precautions. It went outside Steve's personal moral comfort zone, but he also knew Natasha had done as she was trained, doing what she had to do to survive. If she had slipped and gotten pregnant and Mikhailov was Nikki's biological father, then the mission had become even more dangerous. And, as much as it sickened him to think about it, based on the reactions around him, Steve knew the level of rage was inconsistent with a failure of birth control. That spoke of violation. And that made Steve's jaw set so firmly it was nearly painful. Some things could never be rationalized, never tolerated, and that was one of them. He made a decision as the team leader, and though it was an emotional one rather than strategic, he knew it was right. He keyed his radio so that Thor and Tony could hear him as well. "Once that little girl is safe, if we find Mikhailov, we take him down with extreme prejudice. Let Natasha take the lead."

* * *

David Warren had known his work for SHIELD was important, but he had never expected to find himself in this much trouble over it. These people who had taken him, torn his daughter from his arms, were demanding the secrets of Captain America's DNA and David didn't have them. Even if he had his research at his fingertips, he had never been able to isolate the super soldier proteins. Steve Rogers' DNA had irrevocably fused with the serum and David's final report to SHIELD on the project had said as much. He knew the many scientific attempts to extract the serum had been wildly and dangerously unsuccessful, and if the madmen who had him knew of his basic involvement with the project, they should have known that too. For the first few hours, he had kicked himself for getting Nikki involved. But he couldn't have known he would be considered that important. It was flattering, in a twisted sort of way, until they took Nikki from him. Then, based on the snatches of Russian conversation he'd overheard, David began to realize it wasn't about him at all. They wanted his knowledge, yes, but they would be happy to kill him and forget about it. They wanted Nikki most of all.

When SHIELD had directed David and his wife to Nikki, he had known that the girl was in danger of being swept up into the underbelly of Russian society if she didn't find a home in America. When he had seen the first pictures, he was smitten; the moment that tiny, flame-haired girl named Nikita was introduced to them, he was in love. Both he and Leah knew it was the right thing to do, not for SHIELD's peace of mind, but for their family. However it had come about, Nikki was the one they'd been looking for. He had never known anything about her birth family from SHIELD; David was not high enough in the system to talk to anyone with that level of knowledge. He had been saving that power play for when Nikki asked questions he needed real answers to, when she was older. For now, she was content with what little they did know, that her birth mother had delivered her to the orphanage personally, that she had loved her enough to give her a strong name, that she had left her with a bear. His heart bled for the woman as Ekaterina, the lead mamachka, had told him of the tears in the young mother's eyes as she said goodbye to her baby, and every night, he prayed that she'd found peace. That she would know she had given him and his wife the most precious gift in the world.

Hours blended together as David was held captive, sometimes being interrogated. Stony silence only earned him a hard slap to the side of his head, but he had stated his terms. He would talk when he had proof Nikki had been safely returned to Leah. When he was alone, he pleaded with God – and, frankly, any other deity that might have been listening – to keep his little girl safe.

An explosion of sound, followed by shouting and the thunder of gunfire, was certainly enough to draw David's attention. He kept his head down until the cacophony faded, then walked over to peer through the window of the wall that separated him from his captors. To David's shock, amazement, and relief, two of the guards were lying on the floor, while the third cowered behind a desk. David could see why, considering the most likely source of the hole in the front wall – a giant green monster in tan pants. The Hulk. Iron Man hovered nearby, arms crossed. Numbly, David began to realize he hadn't just been rescued – he'd been rescued by the Avengers. As David watched, the archer – Hawkeye – moved in with alarming speed and caught the third guard before he bolted, tossing him at the Black Widow. "Here, Tash, have fun."

"Dr. Warren?" Stark had come closer, and the repulsor beams in his gloves were glowing.

"I'm okay!" David shouted.

"Good. You're gonna want to stand back."

Another explosion later, David was following a blonde woman in a SHIELD uniform out of what was left of the building. He didn't miss the rage in the Widow's tone as she interrogated the guard, demanding to know where he was keeping "the girl."

Once they were safely outside the building, the blonde woman offered her hand. "I'm Agent Carter. How are you, Doctor?"

"Better." David was still in shock. "Where's my daughter?"

"Agent Romanoff is working on that now," Carter said and David thought he might have caught a hint of amusement in her tone. "Captain Rogers and Thor are searching the rest of the complex; Mr. Stark should be joining them momentarily." She led David to sit down. "Don't worry. We're going to get you and Nikki out of here."

David might not have asked if he'd thought twice about it, but he was too overwhelmed to censor himself. "So, who rated the Avengers? Her or me?"

Carter shrugged, her expression diplomatic. "Let's just say that SHIELD has a vested interest in making sure you both return home safely."

"It was her, wasn't it?" David's adrenaline level was starting to drop and he blamed his delirium on that. "Atta girl, Niks. I always said you were royalty."

* * *

Adrik Mikhailov slipped into the room where he'd sequestered Nikki Warren, closing it firmly behind him. He'd heard on the radio his complex had been invaded and he had no qualms about using the child as a bargaining chip. He assessed her clinically, as he had the first time he'd seen her, finding nothing of himself in her features. He was a little disappointed. Not paternally, but it would have been nice to see his genes win out.

"_Ty __vyglyadet vasha mat, chto shlyukha_," he murmured, moving toward the girl as she backed away.

Nikki glared at him, her eyes blazing defiantly. He admired her spirit. He'd let her live long enough for Natasha Romanoff to see her die. The girl only got out alive if he did. He'd thought about taking her in, raising her, training her to do his work, but she was too young to make it worth his while. Training programs like the Red Room had done the actual child rearing, and he had no interest in anything but her value to him. And to taunt the Black Widow, who had dared to try to kill him, who had killed his brother on her quest to get to him. He hadn't been sorry to see General Drakov die, but the least Romanoff could have done was leave his daughter for his enemies. "Come now, child," he said in English. "We should go greet our guests."

An animal-like roar from outside suggested they were closer than Adrik had planned, as his radio relayed the belated message that Vazov had cracked under pressure and given up their location. He cursed and unlocked the door, pulling Nikki by the arm and shoving her ahead of him as a shield. If it was a fight they wanted, they would get it.

* * *

Between Tony and the Hulk, gaining access to the buildings in Mikhailov's complex was no problem. Thor didn't hesitate to use Mjolnir to help if a wall proved to be particularly stubborn. It had taken a few attempts to find Dr. Warren, but once they did, Natasha had been quick to find where they had Nikki. Clint stayed near to her, watching. He was worried for her, not only seeing Nikki, but seeing that bastard Mikhailov. She was kicking ass and taking names now, but the letdown was going to be a bitch.

As the wall crumbled, Clint spotted Mikhailov trying to use Nikki as a human shield, and he prepped his bow. He had promised Natasha she could draw first blood, but he knew she'd understand if it came down to Nikki's life.

Natasha and Steve rushed inside. Natasha had been a gymnast and ballerina in her youth and she still moved with catlike grace. In the dark, her black suit melted into the background. Between her skills and Mikhailov's preoccupation with holding a struggling child, Natasha was able to slip behind him, putting a knife to his neck.

"If she touches me, my men will kill the girl first," Mikhailov shouted.

Clint wouldn't have counted on that, as all of the snipers surrounding this building had arrows in them. But he watched, waiting.

Mikhailov sneered at Natasha. "Ah, Natalia. _Vy vidite menya v svoikh snakh_?"

Natasha's reply made it fortunate that Nikki didn't understand much Russian. She pressed the knife against him harder, not cutting yet. Letting him know that she meant business.

"_Vernutʹsya yeshche_?" Mikhailov asked. Clint had to firmly remind himself of his promise to Natasha before "accidentally" letting an arrow fly.

Nikki continued to flail in her captor's grip, when she suddenly turned and brought a small knee up into Mikhailov's groin. His momentary recoil caused him to break his grib on her wrist, and she bolted. Natasha smiled in satisfaction and turned her full attention to Mikhailov.

Clint cheered the kid on mentally and glanced to be sure she was all right – Steve was running to intercept her and check her out, and Clint had never seen a child's eyes wider. Steve scooped her up, carrying her to safety, and Clint felt safe in returning to his partner's fight. In the seconds Clint had been watching Nikki's escape, Natasha had driven her second knife into Mikhailov's leg, slowing him down. The Widow's Bite kept him on the floor for the second she needed to leap over and above him. Clint was kind of hoping she'd cut off his testicles – he rarely wished such pain on another man, but he could make a special exception for this guy.

Clint tapped his radio. "Cap, is the kid clear?"

Steve replied quickly. "Yes, she's safe."

"Good." Clint smiled. "Go to town, Nat. He's all yours. But remember, I owe him one from Budapest."

Natasha moved up on Mikhailov to lean on his airway, a slow choke. It left most of his body clear for a shot. "Okay. Get it out of your system; I'm going to be awhile." She sounded so casual about it, Clint had to laugh. That was Natasha at work.

Clint shrugged and aimed, grinning at the squeal of pain from Mikhailov as the arrow found a home in his groin. It was muffled by his reduced access to oxygen, but it was satisfying enough.

Natasha chuckled appreciatively into the radio. "Good choice."

Clint waited in the rafters, watching as Natasha's calculated torture gave way to revengeful beating. He, along with the rest of his team, ignored her angry tears whenever they were apparent over the radio. And, as Mikhailov finally stopped struggling, Clint climbed down from his perch, ready to take Natasha into his arms. The rest of the team gave them nearly five minutes of privacy, which was all Natasha needed to pull herself back together. They would debrief later, together, alone. They always did.

* * *

David chuckled, overwhelmed with giddy relief, as he passed his daughter off to Captain America. She kissed David on the cheek, then climbed into the captain's waiting arms. He didn't mind; nothing mattered now that she was safe. He had never been so happy as he had when the captain came out of that building, carrying Nikki in his arms. She'd immediately scrambled to David, covering him in kisses, and he'd been afraid of hugging her as tight as he wanted to. But as they waited and things settled, Nikki kept sneaking glances at Captain Rogers. Her hero. He smiled and waved at her, and she looked up at David, as if for permission.

"Oh, all right," David told her. "Just remember, you're coming home with _me_."

Nikki had giggled. "Of course, Daddy. Don't be silly." She looked up at the captain with wonder as he situated her comfortably on his hip, and dissolved into delighted giggles. She reached up hesitantly to touch his cowl and he lowered his head, making it easier to reach. "I can't believe Captain America came to save me!"

Tony Stark had removed his helmet and he snorted playfully. "What are we, chopped liver?"

Nikki laughed. "You all came. Wow. For me?"

Rogers nodded. "Of course." He smiled conspiratorially at David. "Your dad told me you're his Russian princess. I'd say that's pretty important."

Nikki leaned, as if she were about to climb back to David, but then paused and blew him a kiss instead. David laughed and returned the kiss. "Enjoy it, kiddo."

After a few minutes, Agents Barton and Romanoff walked out of the building, his arm around her shoulders. She stopped, looking uncharacteristically uncertain, and Barton leaned his head down to whisper something in her ear. She nodded, smiling a little.

Barton moved over to the captain. "Hey, Cap, can you introduce me to your friend?"

Rogers smiled. "Of course. Nikki, this is Hawkeye."

Barton grinned and held his arms out invitingly. Nikki contemplated it, then cheerfully let him take her. She usually refused to be carried these days, saying she was too big for that, but David could understand its sudden appeal. "Hey, Nikki, did you know my friend Natasha came from Russia, too?"

Nikki nodded quickly. "Yeah!"

Barton gestured Romanoff over. She came, moving with care, taking Nikki as if she were made of spun glass. David at first curiously noted the difference in the way the men bounced her playfully and Romanoff was so hesitant and delicate – and then he began to put it together. The resemblance when they were together was clear. And with that realization came another, that this meant a lot of things for their family, but the most important one had already been made clear. If Nikki was ever in trouble, she'd have Earth's best ready to defend her.

* * *

_Ya zhil na etikh ulitsakh, kogda vy nosili podguzniki – _I lived on these streets while you were wearing diapers.

_Eto pravda – _It's true.

_Traktir na __Tsentralnaya – _loosely, Central Street Tavern

_Ty __vyglyadet vasha mat, chto shlyukha – _You look like your mother, that whore.

_Vy vidite menya v svoikh snakh? - _Do you see me in your dreams?

_Vernutʹsya yeshche? _- Come back for more?

* * *

_Next time – Natasha gets to know Nikki, the mothers meet, and Clint decides that Steve needs a sidekick._


	19. A Blended Family

_Natasha was sound asleep, recovering from the delivery while Clint kept watch. The baby had been sleeping as well, but Clint turned when he heard soft whimpers that threatened to give way to full-blown wailing. He turned in his chair, bending down to the pillow-padded, linen-lined laundry basket that was serving as a crib. "Hey, you," he said softly, not wanting to wake Natasha. "What's up?"_

_ The baby's face crumpled and she began to whine a bit more insistently. Clint scooped her up, not entirely at ease with handling infants, but doing the best he could. Diaper seemed clean. Clint got a clue when the baby's tongue darted out of her mouth, searching for food, and she turned her head to suck on his finger. "Okay, you're hungry. Got it." He was afraid to put her down, not wanting her to cry, but he needed to prepare a bottle. It was time to get inventive. They hadn't bought a sling or any of the other frivolous baby items, just enough to get them through the first few days. Clint grabbed one of his t-shirts from the dresser and tied it around his chest. After tugging on it a few times to determine its stability, he slid the baby girl into it and went about preparing a bottle. She blinked up at him, sucking on her fingers, making soft baby noises, and for one crazy minute, Clint thought about taking Natasha and the kid and going on the run. But SHIELD would find them if their mutual enemies didn't. No, best to stick to the plan._

_ "You know," Clint said quietly, not sure if he was talking to himself or the baby, "I've known you, like, four hours, and you're already growing on me. Must be the Romanoff charm."_

* * *

With the danger out of the way, Clint found his mind wandering to the past as Nikki climbed into his arms. He had no claim to her, really, but he still felt an attachment. He supposed he always would. "Hey, Nikki, did you know my friend Natasha came from Russia, too?"

Nikki nodded excitedly. "Yeah!"

As much as he didn't want to force her into anything, Clint knew that Natasha needed this moment. He gestured her over and she moved delicately, her eyes fixed on Nikki's face. Nikki had taken after Natasha, and the resemblance was even more striking now that they were together. "Hey, Tash."

Natasha was speechless, but she reached out to Nikki, who laughed and allowed herself to be taken. She was thin, delicately built – again, just like Natasha. After a minute, Natasha finally managed to speak, still holding Nikki like she was made of china. "Hey."

"Hi." Nikki smiled, a megawatt grin. "I'm Nikki."

Natasha smiled. "I'm Natasha." She seemed to be easing her way into it, slowly getting more comfortable. "I hear you know a lot about us already."

"Oh, yeah," Nikki replied, with the kind of confidence that only came naturally to children. "You're all really cool, 'cause you save the world and stuff, and now you saved me!" She giggled. "And my daddy."

Natasha's expression was bittersweet. "Well, you're pretty important people."

Nikki giggled and looked away, almost shyly. "My whole name is Nikita Alianova Catherine Warren, but I couldn't say all that when I was a little kid, so they called me Nikki."

Natasha's smiled warmed. "Makes sense." The way she held herself, Clint knew she was on the verge of tears – which was completely understandable. But Natasha would hold it together until she had privacy. The Black Widow might have cried occasionally to force someone's hand, but Natasha saw real tears as a weakness in herself and hid them away.

Clint turned away to give Natasha a moment alone with Nikki, and also to assess the situation. Bruce was back, grabbing a spare shirt out of Steve's bag. They'd managed to get the nanofibers worked out to keep him in pants when he Hulked out, but the mutual consensus had been that the Hulk was not quite as fearsome while wearing a button-down shirt – and it was hardly a big deal if the media got a shot of Bruce shirtless. In fact, as Tony had noted, it seemed to boost ratings. Sharon, apparently, was not above appreciating it, either, though she tried to be sly.

Tony was on the phone with someone, negotiating their pick-up and dispatching one of his employees to return the borrowed car. His helmet was off, but he hadn't mastered a system yet for the suitcase armor to remove itself once assembled; that equipment was in his jet.

Everything seemed to be under control for the moment, so Clint looked back at Natasha, who was running her fingers through Nikki's hair, her emotional control waning for a moment. "You're so beautiful."

Nikki's face lit up and she blushed a little. "Thanks. So are you. My friend Natesh's mom says you have the hardest job because you have to kick everybody's butt and then make the guys behave."

Natasha laughed. "Well, it's not easy, but someone has to do it." She turned her head as David Warren approached. He looked hesitant to interrupt, and his expression told Clint he'd figured out Natasha's link to Nikki. "Oh, look, there's your dad." Her tone was casual, and Clint wondered to himself if it might be easier for Natasha to encounter David first, as Nikki never really had a father before her adoption. Sperm donors the world was better off without didn't count.

"Hey." David seemed to be making an effort to keep it light. Yeah, he'd figured it out. "How's it going?"

"Daddy!" Nikki climbed down Natasha's leg and bounced over to David, but she took his hand instead of reaching to be picked up. "Did you meet everyone?"

"Mostly." David reached out to shake Natasha's hand, but it lingered longer than most. "I don't know how to thank you. All of you, really, but...knowing that man won't hurt anyone again, it'll let me sleep a lot better at night."

Natasha nodded. "Me too." There was a lot unspoken in both of their faces, but there would be time to talk before they had to part ways. Tony had already insisted the Warrens accompany the team back to New York in his jet – there was plenty of room, and no one was leaving anything to chance. The Avengers weren't going to let this family out of their sight until they were safely back in the Syracuse suburbs.

Clint wandered over to Tony, who had either completed his business or was waiting for someone to call him back, and leaned on Tony's armored shoulder. As anticipated, Tony shoved him off. "Hey, no smudging the suit." He met Clint's eyes, his expression growing serious. "Care to explain a few things to me now? How everyone seems to know about this kid but me?"

"Well, to be honest, no one but me and Natasha knew about her until last month," Clint replied. "I had Bruce try to find out where she was for us, because of his connection with orphans in this region. We were only able to find out that she had been adopted to a family from New York. SHIELD was pretty good about covering their tracks with her. And since Maria's little tip came to me from her personal cell, I'm guessing she wasn't happy with Fury leaving us out of it either."

Tony chuckled. "I wouldn't want to be him when Natasha sees him next."

"Yeah, that's going to be pretty intense," Clint agreed.

"So what's the deal?" Tony asked. "Obviously, they're related. I mean, just look. I thought maybe sisters at first, but unless Natasha's parents aren't really dead, the kid's too young. So...daughter?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah. I'd just brought her into SHIELD when Nikki was born. Even if raising her had been an option...it was too dangerous."

Tony held his hands up. "Hey, I'm not questioning her decisions. Obviously, the girl ended up with a good life." He assessed Clint, then looked back at Nikki. "If she was born after you took Natasha in..."

Normally, Clint would have blown the insinuation off, but Tony was genuinely curious, and it was a valid question under the circumstances. "No. Natasha was pregnant when I found her. I just hid out with her for a few months until Nikki was born and we made sure she was safe at the orphanage."

"Oh." Tony nodded, then shrugged it off in his usual style. "Fair enough. I don't think the world is ready for BlackHawk babies yet anyway."

Clint snorted. "BlackHawk? That's the best you could do?"

"Hey, not mine," Tony insisted. "That's what all the papers are calling you two. They love those smoosh-names, like Brangelina. I would have gone for the first-name mashup myself. Clintasha just has a certain ring to it."

"That's an awful lot of crap to invest, considering we're not even a couple," Clint muttered.

Tony shrugged. "People love a good romance. They were pairing me and Pepper way before we ever got together. And they're just working on names for Steve and Sharon right now, I'm sure. Go online. There's a whole world out there."

A world Clint knew existed, but he liked to actively avoid for the sake of what little sanity he had left. "Yeah, and it's pretty freaky sometimes. I mean, I know the gods in mythology were getting it on with anyone and anything, but...Thor and Loki? I mean, for real?"

"Or me and Loki, or you and Loki..." Tony ducked his head to avoid Clint swatting him. "Yeah, the Internet is for -"

Clint was fairly certain Tony was going to finish that sentence with "porn," as he usually did, but David was coming back their way, leading Nikki by the hand. Natasha followed them. Clint stepped back to put an arm around Natasha's waist, lending her his silent support until they were able to be alone. She smiled tiredly and leaned against him as Tony informed David that his family would be returning to New York in the Stark Industries jet, no arguments.

"It's over," Clint told Natasha in a tone meant for her ears only. "Mikhailov's dead. Nikki's safe."

Natasha sighed. "It's never going to be over, Clint. He needed to die, but he wasn't the only one out there."

"Then we'll be wary, we'll be watchful, keep a ready claw..." Clint teased. She'd found out about one of his old circus acts a few years back and it never failed to get a smile out of her.

Natasha shook her head, but she did smile. "I guess that's all we can do. Protect her."

"You know we will," Clint assured her. "All of us. You're not alone anymore. I think you forget that sometimes."

She rested her head on his shoulder, and Clint could feel her exhaustion as the adrenaline began to subside. "Then I guess you'll have to remind me every once in awhile."

Clint grinned, and leaned his cheek on the top of her head. "Always, Nat. Always."

* * *

Leah hadn't been able to bring herself to watch the news in her hotel room. She was barely able to keep up with the texts from her friends, lending her their support, thoughts, and prayers. She sent each of them a thank you, and each one brought fresh tears to her eyes. The Avengers' arrival had given her renewed hope, but she still waited and worried. Then came a text from an unknown, unlisted number.

_Lost my phone, had to borrow one. Safe now, with Nikki. Be there soon. Love, David_

Leah stared at it, torn between glee and suspicion. If this was a sick joke, she didn't know what she'd do. She wanted to believe, badly. And so she called the number back, either to talk to her husband or give the prankster a piece of her mind.

A few rings, then an answer. "Stark. Whatcha need?"

Leah blinked in disbelief and nearly dropped the phone. It sounded like Tony Stark, but it was a little hard to wrap her mind around, even after Thor, Banner, and Captain Rogers had visited earlier. "Mr. Stark? It's...my name's Leah Warren."

"Oh!" He sounded cheerful, and there was a shuffle, then a metallic clang. "Hang on, I gotta transfer this...Bruce! Gimme my phone! Fine, then, you design gloves that won't smash it...smash... Okay, just give it to the good doctor, then. He's got a call. JARVIS, redirect the call to my handheld."

There was a pause, then the voice Leah had been waiting breathlessly to hear. "Hello?"

"David." Words failed Leah for a moment, and she had to remember to breath. "Oh, my God. It really is you."

"Yeah, it's me." His voice was tender. Tired, but healthy. "We're okay. Hang on, there's someone else who's pretty anxious to talk to you. Love you."

"I love you, too." Leah collapsed against the hotel bed's overstuffed pillows, clutching the phone, as she heard another voice on the line. "Hi, Mommy!"

"Oh, Nikki, baby." The joyful, relieved tears that had been building up in Leah's eyes finally spilled over. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. The Avengers saved me and Daddy," Nikki gushed. "It was so cool!"

Leah hung on every word as she listened to Nikki tell her about meeting her heroes, babbling like she was on a caffeine buzz. She laughed fondly as she heard David in the background, teasing Nikki about stopping to breathe occasionally. She had her family back, and she couldn't wait for them to arrive.

* * *

Even in her admittedly pampered life as a reasonably well-off suburban housewife, Leah had never seen splendor that compared to Tony Stark's private jet. That was wealth on an entirely different level. She was impressed, and the plush bench seats that folded out for lounging were perfect for sleeping. Even though Stark's jet shaved hours off the same journey made in a commercial airliner, it was still another eight hours to Syracuse. Leah looked around her, smiling fondly at David and Nikki, curled up together and fast asleep. After their ordeal, they'd drifted off nearly as soon as they got settled. Leah wanted to join them, but she was still too wound up to sleep.

Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter were engrossed in a quiet, private conversation, while Stark was napping on one of the bench seats, his arc reactor glowing in the dim light of the passenger cabin. One of the team had made a passing remark about taking pictures, for it was apparently rare to see him actually sleep. That didn't surprise Leah. She had dragged David away from his computer in the wee hours of many mornings, promising him that science could wait until he'd had a decent few hours of sleep.

Leah looked up, sensing someone near her. It was Bruce Banner. "Hi."

"Hey." Leah smiled and scooted over on her seat. "Can't sleep either, huh?"

"I will, later." Banner smiled and nudged his glasses back into place. "How're you doing?"

"Better, now." Leah folded her hands in her lap. She was sure there would be a therapist visit in her future, but for the moment, she was at peace just knowing her husband and daughter were safe. The ton of bricks had not dropped yet, and she was willing to delay that as long as possible. "David and Nikki are safe. That's all that matters."

"Yeah," Banner agreed, nodding. "You have a wonderful family." He sounded a little wistful, and Leah knew it couldn't have been easy for him, finding relationships. If she hadn't been happily married, she might have tried to get his number.

"Thank you." Leah smiled. "I felt like my whole world fell apart when I realized I couldn't have children...I just didn't realize my child was already waiting for me, a world away. I know it sounds schmaltzy, but..."

Banner shook his head. "No, not really. It sounds quite lovely, actually."

Leah didn't usually pour her heart out to virtual strangers, but she knew Banner had done a lot of work in orphanages, so she figured he'd understand – and he was a much warmer presence than faceless online support networks. "I never thought I could adopt at first, because it felt like I was taking someone else's child...that's why we opted to go international, because I thought it would be easier. I heard all the stories of abandoned babies and asked myself how someone could do that, and vilified the parents in my mind. But...I couldn't do that with Nikki, because I heard her story, and even though I know her mother had to choose what was best for her baby, my heart just breaks for her. It's just what I feared, but at the same time, I would never do it over. I just...I hope she knows her daughter is happy and healthy and beautiful."

Banner's eyes had misted up and he swiped at them. He took Leah's hand in his, gently. "She knows."

With that, the pieces began to come together in Leah's head. David had told her they needed to talk when they got home, and she hadn't thought anything of it, too overcome by the emotional rush of having her family back together. The fond, longing looks Natasha Romanoff had given Nikki before retreating to the back of the plane with her partner. The resemblance, which Leah had written off to their shared Russian heritage, but was now forced to examine. Banner's emotional involvement, a shadowy agency directing David and Leah to Nikki, and the Avengers uniting to save her. It all made sense, and Leah wondered why she hadn't figured it out sooner. David obviously had. She wasn't going to wake him to have that talk, but there was another one she needed to have first. She sighed, closing her eyes for a long moment to gather her strength, and looked at Banner. "I...do you think it would be all right if...?"

He nodded. "I'm no psychologist, but I think it would do you both good."

Leah swallowed hard. "Thank you." She rose and cautiously made her way to the back, where a curtain separated the galley kitchen, which was half open. She didn't want to pry, but she peeked around the curtain, discovering that in the absence of staff to work the kitchen, someone had moved a small futon in. It rendered the kitchen more or less unusable with the space it took, but it did provide a measure of solitude. Natasha – Leah couldn't bring herself to think of her too formally, given their connection – was curled up on the futon, watching as Barton, perched on a counter, raided the liquor cabinet to mix up drinks. He glanced over his shoulder and waved at Leah without losing his balance or spilling a drop. "Hey, come on in. Want a drink?"

Leah was a bit surprised by the invitation, but she took it as a good sign. She sat down on the futon, leaving a comfortable space between her and Natasha. "Ah, sure. What's available?"

Barton laughed. "This is a Stark jet. What's not?" He rummaged through the cabinet. "You don't strike me as a straight vodka type. Mango rum?"

"Sounds delightful." Leah grinned as he fished in a nearby cabinet for another glass. "Nice place you've got here."

He laughed. "Yeah, it's convenient when they send us halfway around the world to deal with stuff and we don't feel like playing well with others." He passed a glass to Natasha, handed her a second one, then gave the third to Leah. "We kind of did our own thing before this whole team thing came along." He pushed off the counter, flipped gracefully, and landed on the futon in the space between Leah and Natasha.

Natasha handed him his drink, then looked at Leah and laughed softly. "Please, don't be too impressed with him. He'll be insufferable for weeks."

Leah sipped at her drink. She didn't know if it was her need to be soothed or if it was just that good, but it was the best thing she'd tasted in days. "If I'm interrupting you two, I can leave."

"No, no." Barton waved at her. He stood, stretching. "I need to go ask the pilot about something. I'll be back." He gave Natasha a fond look and patted her thigh, pulling the curtain completely closed behind him.

The two women watched each other in silence for a long moment. Leah didn't know what to say. "Thank you" could never be enough. She didn't want to hurt Natasha. Finally, she gave in and let her emotions guide her, hoping this wasn't a monumentally bad idea. Leah set her drink on the counter, then moved over toward Natasha, pulling her into a hug.

Natasha made a startled noise, but didn't fight. She was perfectly still for a moment, as if unsure what to do, but reached out calmly to set her drink on the flat arm of the futon. She hugged Leah, at first hesitantly, but then she melted.

"Thank you," Leah whispered. It wasn't enough, but that was all she could say. "I owe you...everything."

Natasha stiffened for a moment, and Leah relaxed her grip, afraid she was making Natasha uncomfortable. But then the first sob escaped – at first a muffled squeak, then Natasha stopped fighting it. In moments, Leah was crying, too, and they held onto each other.

After a few minutes, Natasha's tears subsided enough for her to look up and wipe her eyes furiously, looking uncertain about her display of emotion. "I'm sorry."

Leah smiled, blinking back her own tears. "You have nothing to be sorry for." She gave Natasha another hug, then released her and they settled comfortably next to each other. "I...there's nothing I can say that will ever be enough. I don't know what you've been through. But that little girl is my sun, my moon. The minute I saw her, I knew it. And...I wouldn't have any of it without you."

Another tear slipped down Natasha's cheek, but she let it go. "She has everything I wanted for her. Everything I couldn't give her, not then. Not even now. _I_ should be thanking _you_."

Leah put a hand on Natasha's arm. "I know this can't be easy for you...and, hell, I don't know what to tell Nikki yet. I want you to be part of our lives. And she should know why, but...seven-year-olds aren't that great with secrets..."

Natasha nodded. "It's too dangerous for the world to know. I've always known that. Maybe someday, but not now." She looked down, lacing her fingers together, then smiled at Leah. "But...I would like to see her, if that's all right."

"Of course." Leah had half been expecting this to explode in her face, and she couldn't believe it was going so well. "We'll figure out what to tell Nikki. But I want her to know you."

"If she doesn't hate me for giving her up," Natasha said softly.

Leah shook her head. "Oh, no. I mean, she might go through that stage someday, but...we've talked about it, even when we didn't know anything about her birth mother except what the orphanage told us. She knows she was loved. Every year, on her birthday, she's written a letter to you – or dictated it, before she could write." She'd found the ritual on an adoptive parents' forum, and she could never bring herself to burn the letters to "spread them to the wind" as the original author had. "I never dreamed I would actually meet you...but I kept them, in her hope chest. I don't know for what, but I couldn't bear to just put them aside."

Natasha almost looked overwhelmed for a moment, but then she composed herself. "That's...incredible. Thank you." She leaned her arm back, knocking her glass off the arm of the futon. She caught the glass with incredible grace, spilling a minimal amount.

Leah blinked. She'd seen Natasha's acrobatics in news footage, but somehow, those reflexes hit home as she remembered taking Nikki to gymnastics lessons. The teacher had commented that Nikki was a natural, with "raw talent." Leah had entertained Olympic hopes for a short time, as she supposed any mother might, but Nikki had one day announced she was bored with gymnastics and wanted to do ballet instead. She still utilized the balance, delicacy, and poise, though. Something else to attribute to her genetics, in addition to her gorgeous hair. "She's so much like you, I can't believe it."

Natasha took a deep breath and a long sip of what was left in her glass. She looked like she was debating with herself, but then she met Leah's eyes, her expression earnest. "Tell me about her."

* * *

Clint stretched out on an empty bench seat, sipping at the last of his drink. He had resisted the urge to check in with Natasha and Leah, knowing they needed their time together. This was going to hit everyone full-force eventually, but in the meantime, he could marvel at the situation. It really couldn't have gone better, aside from the part where Nikki got kidnapped in the first place. Everyone was whole and healthy and the families were already merging wonderfully. Funny, how Clint had finally been able to start thinking of the Avengers as his family. He'd never been able to do that at SHIELD, except with Natasha and possibly Coulson.

Clint looked around the cabin. Tony was still asleep. Sharon had drifted to sleep as well, leaning up against Steve, who kept watch. Bruce was watching Thor play _Angry Birds _on one of the tablet computers, offering tips. Thor offered the game to Bruce cheerfully, but Bruce waved him off. "No, this is best left as a spectator sport for me. You'll understand when you get to the higher levels."

And then there were David and Nikki, both sleeping off their ordeal, the girl cuddled safely in her father's arms. Clint smiled. He'd always have a soft spot for Natasha's daughter, based on that connection alone, but she was quite a dynamic personality. Clint looked forward to getting to know her, and he expected they would. He laughed, recalling Nikki's hero worship of Captain America. "Hey, Steve, I think you need a sidekick."

Steve chuckled. "You mean to tell me Tony's not my sidekick?"

Clint grinned. Steve's humor was sly, but usually clever. Except the times he was unintentionally hilarious, which were also frequent. "No, I mean...Batman had Robin. There was that whole Superboy thing. A young apprentice, hand-trained. Doesn't need superpowers. Cute little outfit." He glanced over at Nikki. "Can't you see it? Little star-spangled outfit, except with maybe a skirt? It's perfect, an immigrant adopted by wealthy parents in suburbia...we could call her the American Dream!"

Steve shook his head, but he laughed. "I think she's a little young."

Clint shrugged. "So we'll give it a few years. This totally needs to happen." At the very least, it would make a great Halloween costume.

* * *

_Yes, to all the comic nerds, I know Sharon's cousin Shannon became "American Dream," le femme Captain America. She never grew on me. And Clint's just being Clint. But, hey, who knows, in a few years..._

_I'm currently running a Kickstarter for my webseries, Earth's Mightiest Women. It's set in Earth-63, an alternate Marvel universe named after Rule 63 of the Internet (there will always be a gender-swapped version of any given character). Occasional guest spots from visiting 616 characters. I can't link it here, but if you want to check it out, I'd be grateful. Just go to the Kickstarter website and search for "Earth's Mightiest Women." Hopefully, it'll be something you like. I'm writing most of the episodes and playing Antonia Stark. She also has a tumblr, starklyamazing. Stephanie Rogers is still getting the hang of the Internet, but she fumbles around tumblr at captstephrogers._

_Now, with the shameless self-promotion out of the way, my thanks for your continued support, and stay tuned for the next installment. Natasha finally gets her audience with Fury. Hopefully for his sake, motherhood has mellowed her. But don't count on it._


	20. Romance and Rage

It was very early in the morning when Tony finally slipped into his bed, snuggling up behind Pepper. Usually she waited up for him, but he had assured her on the way home they were all fine and to go on to bed. She had apparently found an acceptable halfway point, though, because though she was settled in comfortably, she wasn't asleep. She made a happy, murmuring noise as he joined her.

"Welcome home." Pepper turned her head backwards long enough to steal a brief kiss.

"Why, thank you." Tony nuzzled his face against her hair. Sleeping like this was not only warm and cozy, her spooned up in front of him, but in their case, it was practical. His chest against her back kept the arc reactor from lighting up the room. He preferred to sleep in nothing but his boxers – occasionally, not even that – and the arc reactor, uncovered, was exceedingly bright. "Everything okay here?"

"Fine," Pepper assured him, snuggling closer. "I assume you'll want to sleep in?"

"Fury scheduled our debriefing for nine o'clock," Tony complained. "I realize some crazy people keep those hours, but, really?"

Pepper chuckled. "So you're actually planning on showing up? I'm impressed."

"Not for him." Tony grinned. "I just want to see Natasha kick his ass for trying to leave her out of this one." He'd given Pepper a brief synopsis of the situation when they talked on his way home, including the part about the kidnapped child being Natasha's daughter.

"I'll have to see the security footage," Pepper murmured.

"Why don't you come see it for yourself?" Tony asked. "I'm sure I can come up with any number of excuses to sneak you in."

"Thanks," Pepper said, "but I've got a doctor's appointment at the same time."

"Doctor?" Tony frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Pepper smiled and stretched her neck as Tony began to kiss it. "Birth control refill."

"Ah." Tony smiled. "Yes, important, that. Don't need any little Starklings running around yet."

Pepper was quiet for a moment, before she softly said, "I do want a baby, though, someday."

Tony wasn't alarmed; it wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. Despite her assurances, he was still pretty much convinced he was not ideal father material, but at least he had a long list of things he knew _not_ to do. "Yeah, once things settle down around here, might not be a bad thought." That was the best way to deal with the issue, he'd learned – not saying yes right away, but not saying no, either. Truth was, part of him wanted a family with Pepper, too. Unfortunately, the part of him that feared messing up a kid for life was more vocal. "We'll at least have fun trying."

Pepper laughed. "We have fun even when we're _not_ trying."

Tony chuckled appreciatively. "So true."

* * *

Sharon usually had a difficult time sleeping after a mission. Some agents found the adrenaline let-down helped them sleep soundly, but she had never been so blessed. So, when Steve had offered to let her spend the night at his place again, she had insisted she would take the couch this time. He looked exhausted, and she didn't want to be responsible for kicking him out of his own bed again. Had it been anyone else, she'd have made a crack about how the beds in the tower were big enough for two to sleep comfortably and never interact, but this was sweet, shy Steve. Sharon frankly would have been more than happy to share the bed with him now, but they'd been raised in different times and had different opinions on that sort of thing.

If she couldn't sleep, Sharon figured she might as well be productive. She caught up on emails via her phone and checked Fury's memos for the latest updates. Most of them lately had involved Agent Wilson and the various things other agents were not allowed to let him do, and Sharon laughed. Fury had considered Wilson for the Avengers Initiative for about thirty seconds before realizing how disastrous that would be for all involved. For all his zeal about his pet project, Fury did actually stop to consider the ramifications now and then.

A quick look at the latest celebrity news – a strangely necessary task for most SHIELD agents – revealed more of the usual. Speculation about movie stars and who they were or weren't sleeping with. Baby watch, which was especially amusing when the persons in question weren't actually pregnant. Sharon figured the so-called reporters just kept the fire burning on the chance that they might someday be right. Like those who were fixated on when Reed and Sue Richards might have a baby. According to the tabloids, Sue had been pregnant for the past three years, but they were suddenly high-fiving each other when she announced her actual pregnancy last week. Sharon had become more and more convinced over the years that "an unnamed source" was tabloid code for "we're just making this up."

Sharon turned her head toward the bedroom as she heard Steve stirring. He stepped out into the living room in his pajamas, hair mussed. "Oh...you're awake."

"Couldn't sleep either?" Sharon guessed.

Steve smiled, looking a bit sheepish, though he certainly didn't need to be. "Yeah."

Sharon sat up, swinging her legs off the couch to make room for Steve to sit. She patted the cushion next to her. "Rough dreams or just couldn't wind down?"

"Bit of both," Steve admitted. "What about you?"

"I told you before; I never sleep well right after getting home," Sharon said. "I'll crash early tomorrow night and be fine." She snuggled up next to Steve as he invited her. It was the little things that meant the most. Sharon had recently come to terms with the fact that she was becoming more smitten than she was comfortable with. Most SHIELD agents didn't have steady relationships for a reason. It unnerved her to think that she could be taken in by something so basic, the concept of an old-fashioned romance. And she had no idea if Steve saw her as anything other than a close friend. Sure, he was affectionate toward her, but that didn't mean anything by itself. He'd been raised to treat women well, in a day and age where flirty and fun didn't have to mean anything else.

After a few minutes, Steve glanced down at the coffee table, where Sharon had put her phone. "I don't want to keep you from working, if you were busy..."

Sharon laughed. "Trust me, it's no great loss. It sounds exciting at first, when they tell you part of your job is to keep an eye on the top celebrity gossip, but it loses its charm."

"I could see that." Steve frowned. "Does SHIELD really have a vested interest in celebrity gossip?"

"Only when it's about persons of interest," Sharon replied. "We have to know what the public is saying. Most of the time, it's harmless fluff, but we don't like to be caught by surprise when it isn't."

"I guess that makes sense," Steve allowed. "What are they saying about us? The team, I mean?"

Sharon didn't allow herself to find hope in the fact that he'd felt there was a need to clarify which "us" he meant. "Oh, the usual. No one believes Tony has really settled down, so they set up torrid affairs with every random woman he ends up being photographed with. Natasha and Clint are everyone's favorite 'are they or aren't they?' couple at the moment. Bad innuendos regarding thunder and the nature of Thor's relationship with Jane. Speculation regarding the details of Hulk's anatomy."

Steve frowned. "Is it all about sex?"

Sharon nodded. "Yeah, pretty much, most of the time." She shrugged. "Sadly, that's what sells papers."

Steve made a face, the kind he made when he really didn't understand the world at all, then frowned suspiciously. "What about...us? You know, you and me?"

Sharon briefly considered making up some outlandish story about their rumored passionate nights, but she didn't want to freak him out entirely. "You're about the only one who's been safe so far." The Captain America charm had managed to afford Steve a certain protected status; no one so far dared to put anything too crazy out there. Maybe it was because he'd been the childhood hero of so many. Whatever it was, Sharon didn't question it. She didn't mind being labeled "Captain America's girlfriend" in the papers, and she certainly wouldn't have minded it in real life. But she never let herself go too far with that train of thought. She felt silly about the whole thing, a highly trained secret agent undone by a crush. Natasha's "love is for children" seemed a bit harsh at times, but Sharon could understand where the sentiment came from. "A lot of people think we're dating, but that's pretty much it. Tame stuff."

Steve nodded, as if satisfied, but he looked lost in thought. Finally, he asked her, "So..._are_ we dating? I mean, I...it was a lot easier to figure these things out when I grew up."

Sharon laughed. Steve really had no sense of how a "modern" relationship typically developed, and that was probably for the better. He might not have been ready for that yet. "Well, if you go based on what they're seeing, that we haven't been romantically linked to anyone else and that we're good friends who spend a lot of time together...a case could be made. But unless one of them's gone to Crazytown, no, two people don't end up in a relationship without both of them knowing." At least in the strictly defined concept of a public relationship. What she and Steve had going on was another thing all together. "At least not officially."

"Well, that's a relief." Steve's eyes widened suddenly, and he shook his head. "I mean, not to say that...I mean..." He finally sighed, confessing, "I do like you."

And there they were, all those giddy teenage girl feelings. Sharon smiled and tilted her head up to meet Steve's eyes. They held a wary hope, as if he was afraid of her reaction to his admission. "And I like you."

"So...where do we go from here?" Steve asked.

Training and hormones were both pushing Sharon to lean forward a little more, press her chest against his arm, entice him. But she respected Steve far too much to use the art of seduction on him. Whatever happened needed to happen in due time. "Why don't we just take it easy and see where it goes?"

Steve nodded. "I can handle that." He bent his head down, kissing her chastely – at first. It quickly deepened, intensifying. They were two lonely people with a shared past, cliché as it sounded, and when they pulled away, there were no expectations. Sharon snuggled into Steve's arms, resting her head against his chest. They stayed like that for a long time, and it was much to Sharon's surprise that Jarvis actually had to awaken them in time to prep for the debriefing.

* * *

Natasha arrived in the conference room for the debriefing a half-hour early, knowing she'd beat the others. She'd had Jarvis alert her as soon as Fury arrived. Though things had ultimately turned out for the best, there was no way she was simply going to let it go that he'd tried to shut her out of the op. And as much as she knew the rest of the team wanted to see this, she wasn't looking to create a scene. They could get the security footage later – or they could ask Clint, who was hiding in the vents.

Fury turned to look at Natasha as she entered. "You're early, Agent Romanoff."

Natasha inclined her head in acknowledgment. "A word, Director?" Part of her wanted him to look nervous – he had to know exactly why she'd come – but she knew even if he was, he'd never show it. Besides, he had one thing in his favor: she couldn't get away with actually attacking him, tempting as it might have been.

Fury looked, if anything, amused. "Just one, Agent?"

Natasha considered her options. She could go for the weepy, _"I thought you trusted me!," _but Fury wouldn't fall for it. Also, he didn't trust much of anyone. Direct was best. "You had no business leaving me out of that mission."

Fury crossed his arms. "Last time I checked, it was my agency. And you managed to join it anyway."

"That's not the point." Natasha was separated from Fury by the table, and it was best to leave it that way, lest her emotions override common sense. She leaned on the table, toward him. "Mikhailov is dead. I'd say the world is better off."

"I can't argue that," Fury said, "but I stand by my original decision. You were too emotionally involved to be objective. It's standard protocol."

"Standard protocol, my ass," Natasha growled. "What, did you think just because I had a stake in this, I couldn't handle myself? Because I was her _mother_?"

Fury scoffed. "Gender had nothing to do with it. As you'll recall, I shut Barton out of the mission too, not that it accomplished anything. I needed Dr. Warren and Nikita to be found with as little drama as possible."

"Meaning?" Natasha asked.

"Meaning, I didn't need you two trying to burn Moscow to the ground in order to get answers!" Fury shook his head. "I needed time, and I know full well you wouldn't have agreed to sit around and wait. If I really wanted to make sure you had nothing to do with the mission, don't you think I'd have kept you on a snipe hunt in Canada? Or, I don't know, _maybe_ wiped the mission briefing from Stark's computer?"

Natasha paused. It was true; Fury was not one to leave evidence. Tony was the one who'd realized Jarvis would have the information and had figured out how to get it. "So you meant for us to come in all along." She _hated_ being played and cursed herself for not figuring it out sooner. Fury was a pain in the ass, but he wasn't stupid.

"Yes, _later_," Fury pointed out. "Honestly, don't you think I've been in this game long enough to know how to play? I'd hoped it would take a little longer for you all to put the pieces together, but I guess that's what I get for hiring the best."

The backhanded compliment didn't faze Natasha. She was still too angry, but she was out of arguments that weren't physical. And she was pretty sure Fury would shoot her before she got close enough to try that. She glared at him, then slipped into a seat at the farthest end of the room, her arms firmly crossed. The past days had been a whirlwind of emotions, and anger was one of the few she was comfortable with, so she held onto that.

"Natasha," Fury said after a moment – and his use of her first name was uncommon enough that it would have surprised her if she hadn't been so focused. "Crimson Liberty was started for a reason. Not just to keep an eye on the Russians, but to keep an eye on _her. _SHIELD takes care of its own."

Natasha nodded coolly. "Thank you." It didn't make her feel any better about the situation, but it was a comfort to the mother in her. "Might I make a recommendation?"

Fury cocked his head at her curiously. "Yes?"

"If the Warrens agree to it, have Nikki chipped." The process to insert a GPS chip was no more painful than a mosquito bite using SHIELD's technology, and Natasha wasn't naïve enough to think the danger had ended with Mikhailov's death.

Fury smiled. "Good idea. I'll have Agent Hill contact Dr. Warren this afternoon."

"I'll do it," Natasha volunteered. "I think it might be less threatening, coming from someone they already know."

"Fine." Fury nodded. "Let me know what they decide. We'll make the arrangements."

* * *

_Thanks so much for your patience, guys! I say that too much, but I've got a million things going on. Thanks for all the reviews, watches, favorites, and support. You people rock!_

_I also am now smitten with the concept of a little Starkling crawling around. Thanks, hormones._

_Next chapter – Steve and Sharon go undercover. Thor misses having his nieces and nephews around. Loki proposes a solution, which is rejected by pretty much everybody._


	21. Unexpected

_ I'm back! No, I haven't given up on this story, not by far. But I apparently decided I didn't need any free time ever again, so I've been working on both the webseries "Earth's Mightiest Women" and a stage version set in the same universe. Plus ongoing stories in other fandoms. Then my computer crashed – thank God for Carbonite backups! And, of course, work. But we're on winter break and I'm going to take advantage! Hope you enjoy – thanks for all your support, and have a fantastic 2013!_

* * *

Fury had asked Steve and Sharon to stay after the debriefing. Sharon wasn't worried; the director had his ways and she was used to that. What she was not prepared for, however, was the announcement he made. "You're a couple."

That had only been established a few hours ago, and so Sharon was caught completely off-guard. Steve jolted in his seat, looking suspicious. "A couple of what?" Sharon asked, trying to sound casual.

Fury rolled his eyes. "Do I really need to explain the birds and the bees to you, Agent Carter? Since half the planet seems to think you two are an item, we'll be playing to that for your latest assignment. Captain, I'm going to need you on this, too, so you both will be playing the part of a couple on vacation."

"Vacation" sounded good, and it limited the less desirable location probabilities. No couple in their right mind would be vacationing in, say, Baghdad. "I don't suppose we're headed to the Bahamas?"

Fury scoffed. "You only wish. You'll leave Thursday and be spending the week in Vienna. The cover is that now that the two of you have become a couple, you want some time away from the others in order to...do whatever it is you might choose to do."

If Sharon hadn't known Fury as well as she did, she'd have suspected he knew and was trying to gift them with some time away. But she knew far better than that. "And the objective?"

"Rumors have abounded for some time that there is a small HYDRA weapons base building in the slums of Bratislava, just across the Austria-Slovakia border. Look into it. Neutralize anything you find. Call for backup if you need it. This is a new cell and I want it nipped in the bud."

Steve nodded. He had not been happy when he first learned that enough HYDRA agents had survived the war to keep the movement going, if underground. He was always more than willing to help put a stop to their schemes. "I assume you've arranged for our travel documents?"

"Of course." Fury nodded once, clasping his hands behind his back. "They'll be arriving with your dossiers via courier."

As usual. Sharon smiled. "Any other recommendations, sir?"

Fury shrugged – though if Sharon had blinked, she would have missed it. "See Prague if you get the time. I hear it's nice in the fall."

* * *

Pepper was accustomed to being recognized in public, if only as Tony's girlfriend/life manager, and it didn't really bother her unless she was being trailed by nosy reporters looking for a scoop. But sometimes it was nice to have a place where she knew she could wait in peace – and, strangely, her doctor's office was one of them. Some people in the waiting room appeared to recognize her, but they didn't approach. She could have easily moved her care to Stark Medical, but for some things, it was a little too close for comfort. Though everyone the company hired were the ultimate professionals, Pepper had no desire to work every day with a doctor who had seen every inch of her reproductive organs. Besides, she loved her doctor, so it worked out

The tech came out, nodding for Pepper to come back into the office. This routine was intimately familiar to Pepper – her chosen form of birth control also stopped her periods, which was why she loved it so. However, it didn't stop her from ovulating, so every three months at refill time she got a pregnancy test. She waited for the results, and when it was clear as always, she collected her prescription and went on her way.

The tech nodded for Pepper to have a seat in the consultation room. "Dr. Goldberg will be with you in just a minute."

Standard procedure. Pepper nodded and thanked the woman, then returned to setting Tony's schedule for next week on her tablet. When the doctor came in, holding the results, Pepper smiled. "So am I good to go?"

There was a moment of hesitation, just long enough to get Pepper's heart racing. Dr. Goldberg shut the door. "Ms. Potts, we need to discuss your results."

It wasn't as if it had been a cancer test or even a blood profile. Either one was pregnant or they weren't. Pepper's hand went to her chest. "There's no way I can be pregnant. I take my pills at the same time every day. _Every day_." She had Jarvis set a reminder when she was traveling, so she could maintain the same time in different time zones.

Dr. Goldberg sat down on her stool. "Even so, there is a point-three-percent failure rate with perfect use."

It would have figured that Tony Stark's child would have managed to find a less than one percent chance and run with it. Pepper was trying not to panic, though she had perfected the art of staying calm on the outside. She wanted a baby, true, but the time wasn't right. She and Tony had agreed last night that later meant exactly that – _later. _"How far...I mean, can you tell...? I haven't had any symptoms!" She'd been sleepy lately, sure, but that came and went with her lifestyle.

"Based on your blood levels," Dr. Goldberg replied, "I'd say between seven and nine weeks. We'll schedule an ultrasound to confirm." She frowned at the file in front of her. "You said on your medical update you'd been sick since your last visit?"

Pepper nodded. "Yes, it was just sinus infection." She probably could have used Stark Medical for that, too, but the quick-care clinic had been booked for the day and she didn't want to abuse power by edging in, so she'd gone to an urgent care a few blocks away.

"Did they prescribe antibiotics?" the doctor asked.

Pepper nodded. "Yes, five days." She did the math in her head, knowing the doctor wouldn't have asked if it wasn't related. "That was two months ago." Right in the window Dr. Goldberg had quoted.

"Many antibiotics affect birth control," Dr. Goldberg explained, "and unfortunately, most urgent care providers fail to remind patients to use a backup method. It's in the small print on the handout the pharmacy gives you, but let's be honest...most people don't read those.

Pepper sighed, then grew concerned. "It wouldn't have harmed the baby, would it?"

"Not at that stage," the doctor assured her, "and there have been many, many birth control pregnancies with healthy babies at the end."

Dr. Goldberg was always upfront with her patients, so if she wasn't worried, Pepper was reassured. Anything could happen, true, but she had to focus on the positive. She was going to be a mother. And Tony...was going to totally freak out.

"I..." Pepper was rarely at a loss for words, but there was so much going through her head, she didn't know what to say. "Ultrasound. You wanted to schedule that."

"Yes, our ultrasound technician will be here tomorrow and Friday this week." The doctor smiled. "Either is fine, if you need a little more time to take in the news."

Pepper noticed the doctor hadn't mentioned the option of not going through with the pregnancy, and though that didn't bother her – she wanted this baby, and she would raise it without Tony if she had to – she wondered. It was just her nature, to gather information on all options, even the ones that wouldn't be pursued. "What if...?"

Dr. Goldberg's smile was gentle. "If you decide not to keep your baby, we'll discuss the options. But I've developed a knack for reading women in my line of work – and unexpected doesn't always mean unwanted."

The words struck Pepper deeply. _Unexpected, but not unwanted._ That summed her situation up perfectly. And she knew Tony would be a good father if he could get past his own doubts. With the Avengers as extended family, this baby would join Nikki as one of the most fiercely protected children in the world.

Pepper was starting to feel this would ultimately be one of the best things that could have happened to them.

* * *

Bruce was sprawled on the couch, watching old sci-fi classics with Thor. Well, "classics" was perhaps too gracious a term, but they were certainly old. It was entertainment, at the very least.

Thor frowned at the screen. "But where are the shadows who speak over the film?"

Bruce laughed. "That's _Mystery Science Theater 3000_, Thor. Definitely an improvement over the originals, I'll agree. This is the original, in all its horrible glory."

Thor nodded thoughtfully. "Your entertainment has come far in such a relatively short time."

"We're clever that way," Bruce said dryly, though he knew it was a compliment. But there was something on Thor's mind – something else that had been there all day. Bruce had hoped cheesy movies would distract Thor, because he was certainly not qualified to play psychologist anyone, especially not someone who wasn't even human. Who knew how the Asgard brain worked? It would make a fascinating research project, but with only one test subject, it wouldn't be very objective. "Something bugging you?" As a friend, he at least had to ask, even if he couldn't do anything about it.

Thor waved a hand. "It is no matter."

Bruce was highly tempted to smile, nod, and leave it there, but his inner self – fortunately, not the green, raging part – nagged at him. "Ah, come on, man. We're friends, here."

Thor beamed, the way he always did when anyone referenced their friendship with him. He was really hard _not_ to like. If anything, Thor was _too_ friendly, considering he'd thanked his brother for attempting to kill him – it made him see reason, he claimed. Also, he'd fallen in love with a woman who hit him with her van. Twice. It was actually rather endearing, but Bruce knew Thor was fully capable of unbridled rage. He rather envied how easy it was for Thor to keep it it check. "It is a trivial concern. In Asgard, I was able to visit often with extended family. It is simple now to use the Rainbow Bridge to visit Loki and my parents, but Slepnir is the only one of Loki's children who maintains a permanent residence in Asgard. The others, they journey amongst the other realms. Their mixed heritage leaves them uneasy in the royal palace, though they are more than welcome."

From a basic primer of Norse mythology, Bruce knew Slepnir was the eight-legged horse, Loki's son. It was kind of odd, Odin using his grandson for a steed, but...he _was_ a horse. Bruce would have asked exactly how many offspring Loki had roaming around out there, but he knew he would end up with a full report of each of their lineages. "So you're an uncle who misses his nieces and nephews. Nothing wrong with that. It's pretty normal."

"Indeed." Thor nodded. "When I visited Loki last, he suggested he might send some of them to reside with us, so they might be closer. I told him I would have to discuss it with the others."

"Um, yeah, sorry, but no." Bruce didn't care how much Thor loved them; he knew he could speak for everyone when he said they didn't need any of Loki's spawn running loose in the tower, never mind several of them. "Might be better to arrange visitation on your side of the bridge."

Thor nodded. "I thought as much. Loki said he would send word, but contacting them can take some time."

Bruce shrugged. "Well, the kids here love you. I'm sure we could arrange for you to visit a couple of schools or something if you want to play with them."

Thor's eyes lit up. "That would be splendid!"

Bruce picked up his tablet computer and sent an email to a couple of his contacts. "Sounds like a plan, then." The kids would love it, Thor would love it, and anything that staved off a visit from Loki's children was a good thing.

If Bruce hadn't known Thor would take him seriously, he would have suggested Thor give the children a lesson on lightning.

* * *

Tony had meetings most of the afternoon. Pepper had rescheduled them. She knew he wouldn't complain, and this latest issue took precedence. She had left the office with a prescription for prenatal vitamins, an appointment for Friday, and a general list of do's and don'ts.

Women who were actually trying to conceive spent a lot of time coming up with cutesy ways to give their partners the news, and a part of Pepper missed that, but ultimately, it was a small loss. If they ever decided to have a second child, she could do it then. This time, it had to be both direct and gentle.

Tony had known something was up as soon as Pepper had rearranged his schedule without any begging on his part. He greeted Pepper with a smile and a kiss as she came into their bedroom. "Hey. What's the occasion? Ready for a little afternoon delight?"

Pepper laughed. Soon enough, he'd realize that was exactly what had gotten them to this point. "As if you don't get enough of that already."

"With you, there is is never enough." Tony poured himself a glass of wine, then held a second out to Pepper in invitation. She shook her head. "Your loss. Just got this in from Paris. And as per our agreement about not drinking before noon, it is 12:02 exactly."

Pepper wasn't going to hassle him about the wine; as much as she worried about his alcohol intake, he was probably going to need the emotional buffer. "Tony, we need to talk."

Tony frowned. "You know I don't like those words. Is this a business talk or a 'Hey, I feel neglected, so I'm running off with Happy' talk?"

Pepper glared at him as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "That was _once_. And you really were being an ass." It had shocked her how hurt Tony was when that happened; they'd been more off than on at the time and she had genuinely thought he wouldn't care. But it was in the past. If they could ever leave it there. Hopefully, her news would be the first step in that direction. "Yes, this is personal. And, no, I'm not leaving."

Tony sat down on the bed, facing her. He sipped at his wine, then set the glass on the nightstand. "I'm listening."

There was no way to say it but to _say_ it. "Tony, I'm pregnant."

Pepper hadn't been sure how she expected Tony to react, but laughter had not been on her list. He grinned at her. "Good one, Pep. C'mon, what's on your mind?"

Pepper looked down at the quilted comforter, tracing its design with one finger, then back into Tony's eyes. "I'm not joking."

Tony had been reaching for his wine, but he froze. "Oh." His eyes registered near-panic and he started to fidget, but at least he wasn't bolting for the door. "Stark super-sperm stormed the barricade?"

She would allow him the bad joke under the circumstances. "Between that and the antibiotics I was on a couple months ago, yes."

"How far...?" Tony looked down at Pepper's waist suspiciously. She wasn't showing yet. She'd noticed some tenderness in her breasts, but had chalked it up to run of the mill hormones. Nothing to worry about. Tony made sure she got her monthly breast exams. He thoroughly enjoyed performing them himself.

"About two months," Pepper said. "I have an ultrasound on Friday; we'll know for sure then and get a due date."

Tony nodded numbly. "Are you sure you don't want to run away while you can?"

Pepper shook her head firmly. "Of course not!" This was what she'd feared most, Tony's self-doubt. "You are _not_ your father. If anything, you learned from him, what a child does need and want. I wish you didn't have to go through that, but you're not genetically doomed to repeat his mistakes. You're fantastic with children."

"Yeah, and then I send them home to their parents." Tony steepled his fingers. "I mean, late-night feedings, fine. I'm up anyway. And the kid couldn't ask for a better mother, but..."

Though she was deeply touched by his last comment, Pepper needed to keep the focus on Tony. She took one of his hands in both of hers. "You're a far better man than you give yourself credit for, Tony. You prove that every time there's a crisis. You like your image, but I think you've bought too much of the hype. The Tony Stark I know is a dedicated, loving man. And any child would be lucky to have him." She didn't stroke Tony's ego like this often – he usually didn't need it. But, sometimes, it was called for.

Tony smiled a little, then nodded, and pulled Pepper into a tight hug. He held onto her like a lifeline. "Did you want me to come to the appointment on Friday?"

"Of course," Pepper assured him. "This is _our_ baby. And don't worry about telling the others yet. We'll figure that out when the time is right."

After an awkward moment, Tony chuckled nervously. "So I guess wearing my 'Baby Daddy' t-shirt to breakfast tomorrow would be a bad idea, then?"

Pepper laughed and pressed her face into the crook of his shoulder. "You don't even _have_ a 'Baby Daddy' t-shirt."

"I could get one," Tony countered, wrapping his arms around her comfortably, with less of the desperation than his earlier hug.

Of that, Pepper had no doubt.

* * *

_Yay, little Starkling! Next time – Steve and Sharon embark on their European adventure, Pepper and Tony get the first look at their little one, and Coulson's cellist from Portland gets a shock._


	22. Life Goes On

_Thanks for your patience, everyone! I've been recovering from an awesome weekend shooting the initial installment of Earth's Mightiest Women, and we've got some amazing footage. Lots of laughs, lots of fantastic scenes...lots of stuff for the gag reel. (I might – might – have freaked out when our actress playing Stephanie Rogers sparked a pair of jumper cables over my chest because I was consulting the director of photography and only saw it out of the corner of my eye. And it might have been caught on film.) But now back to the real world and cranking out some fic. I should be revising the Earth's Mightiest Women stage play (trying to bring it to local theatre as well), but I keep staring at it and this keeps wandering into my brain. So...why fight it?_

* * *

It was mostly habit at this point. Whenever either of them got back to Portland, they collected mail from the post office – little, personal things they didn't want arriving at work. And, somehow, an amazing amount of junk mail. The mail got sorted after throwing open the curtains to let some light into the apartment – which, depending on their schedules, could sit unused for months at a time. There were no plants, nothing living; the utilities were left on and a cleaning service came in once a month to dust everything. Well, except the cello. It was the only thing of value ever left in the apartment full-time, and it was priceless. On their salaries, instruments could be replaced, but this one had seen good times and bad.

If the cello could talk, they would both have a lot of explaining to do. It could tell tales of a lonely soldier in remote postings who kept her sanity through her music. The concertos she played while she debated making Portland her home – as much as she'd ever have a home. The day she let a unassuming, wisecracking co-worker into the private sanctuary no one else knew about. The passion that had followed. The long – mostly work-related – conversations that unfolded in the living room. The living room was for business; the bedroom was for everything else. They mostly tried to keep it that way, but occasionally it got mixed. Theirs was a strange love, strict professionalism mixed with tenderness and emotions they only allowed in the privacy of her apartment. It might as well have been "theirs" after all this time, but that clearly crossed the line into admitting that maybe they needed – or just wanted – each other more than they wanted to admit.

He dusted off the cello lovingly, remembering nights he lounged on the couch, listening to her play. Laughing as she ranted about the monotony of "Canon in D," and admitted to the irony of complaining about it endlessly. He could name those eight single cello notes off the top of his head and he didn't even read music. That was her world. When people asked about his relationship status – and for some reason, they always did – he said nothing more than that he was dating a cellist from Portland. Portland was more of a center of the arts than most people realized and so it was a tidbit of information disguised in a sea of anonymity. When he worried about people getting too close, the story changed – sometimes she was joining a touring company. Sometimes she "moved back to Portland." But he always ended up with her again in the end, either to make people feel better about themselves for "helping," or more simply for the truth – they'd never split at all.

Phil Coulson settled in comfortably on the couch after arranging the apartment to their mutual liking. Absentmindedly, he rubbed a hand over the scar on his chest; the internal damage from Loki's spear had mostly healed and the angry wound was starting to fade, but it itched. Fury had advised him that she would be returning home soon for a weekend and as soon as he'd been released from a medical facility in the middle of nowhere, Phil had made his way to Portland. He was pretty sure that was not what Fury had in mind when tipping him off. Unless it interfered with SHIELD business, Fury didn't care about the status of anyone's personal relationships. And Phil had taken great pains to ensure Fury didn't even know. It was hard not to be suspicious, though; Fury had a way of learning about everything, eventually. Phil had no intention of bringing it up unless Fury did. "Your girlfriend's going to be in Portland this weekend" could mean anything or nothing. Phil wasn't above admitting that Fury's near-omniscience unnerved him occasionally.

The past few months had been a blur. For the early part of it, he'd been heavily medicated, healing from the damage from Loki's weapon. Then he'd been busy with physical therapy and working to regain his stamina. The healing process was something Phil was familiar with, though he was more used to gunshot wounds. Only later would he learn that he had in fact died on the helicarrier that afternoon, if only for a few minutes. Fury refused to let the medical team give up, but he knew the Avengers needed a push. So he gave it to them. He and SHIELD's medical geniuses fought the battle in private. Even Phil didn't know where exactly the medical base had been located and that was saying a lot. He disagreed vehemently with Fury's decision not to reveal the truth to the whole of SHIELD, but that had been an argument Phil was destined to lose. So he accepted defeat sullenly, then made his way to Portland. Phil had a number of safe houses across the globe, but this was the only one Fury didn't know Phil knew about.

The "Supernanny" marathon began to blend together after awhile. Phil liked it because it reminded him of babysitting young recruits. Sometimes he actually learned something. But when he heard her key in the lock, he paused the DVR and sat forward expectantly. He didn't really know how to greet her after so long.

There was an immediate cacophony of duffel bags being dropped and the unmistakable sound of a fresh magazine being slammed into a Sig Sauer P229. Phil hit the floor instinctively, wincing. His doctor had been right; he wasn't ready for battle again just yet.

Silence followed, then cautious footsteps. Phil stayed silent, knowing he should identify himself but also knowing her trigger speed – already deadly – increased tenfold when she was startled. He began to wonder if he'd been a fool for assuming that Fury would have told her anything.

She dropped into a crouch, then stared at him under the coffee table, holstering her weapon. Her expression was a wild mix of uncertainty, rage, and hope. "You _asshole_! I could have _shot_ you!"

"Believe me; I'm glad you didn't." He took the opportunity to crawl out from behind the coffee table and back onto the couch. She stood, glaring at him, and he raised his hands defensively. "The boss didn't tell you, I'll assume."

"Fury didn't tell me _anything."_ Her anger intensified, and Phil wasn't sure if it was directed toward him or Fury. But since she hadn't shot him yet, he figured at least the greater majority was reserved for Fury. "How long have you been here?"

"I got in yesterday." Phil knew this was no time to hold back information. "I don't know where I was – apparently, that's beyond even my pay grade. Some medical facility someplace remote. A Quinjet dropped me off in Seattle; I got to Portland on my own. Fury said you'd be in town."

The sudden surprise in her eyes, quickly covered, let Phil know she was concerned with how much Fury knew as well. "I had some leave to burn; the helicarrier's anchored off the coast of California for the week."

"Fury said as much." Phil eased toward her gently. They generally stayed on a last-name basis, even privately, much like Mulder and Scully. But he couldn't maintain any veneer of distance, not knowing she had been left in the dark as well. "Maria..."

That did it. Her lower lip quivered slightly, then steadied, but it was enough to give her away. "I thought you were _dead, _Coulson. For good."

He didn't know what he'd have done if their roles had been reversed. All he did know was that he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold on until morning. "I know. I'm sorry. I thought Fury had told you."

"What, as your lover?" she scoffed.

"No, as his deputy director," Phil replied. "Or maybe as someone who worked closely with you, someone who might want to know."

"You know he doesn't care about hand-holding," Maria muttered.

The longer she looked at him, the more she relaxed, and Phil tried to be as reassuring as possible. "I'm okay, Hill. I'm alive. I told you in Tel Aviv, I'm remarkably hard to get rid of."

That did it. She stepped forward and melted into his arms, gasping his name – his first name. "Sharon thought Fury might have done this. I didn't want to believe...couldn't believe..."

Phil understood. She didn't want to believe Fury would have gone so far. She couldn't dare to believe like Sharon did. "Sharon's a romantic. You're a pragmatist."

She murmured something incomprehensible into his shoulder and he pulled her toward the couch. Later, they could discuss confronting Fury, spreading the news, all the logistics. Tonight needed to be for them. He would comfort her and once she collected herself, she would turn to her music. It soothed her like nothing else could, even Phil.

"Should I get my hands on an MRS form?" Phil teased, using their nickname for the form HR gave to any SHIELD employees intending to marry. "You could play 'Canon in D' at the wedding."

She snorted against his chest. "Forget it. You sure you're not still on heavy medication?"

He smiled, rubbing her back gently as she curled up beside him. As he looked around the room, something caught his eye – something he hadn't noticed before. It was a picture of them, one that had been there for at least a year. It had been taken when the two of them were on a mission in Paris. In the City of Love, they had allowed themselves a single photograph that might have suggested they were a couple. The photo and its frame weren't new, but something else was. In Maria's handwriting, there was a single word written across Phil's chest.

_Avenged._

* * *

Had it been warmer, Sharon might have been inclined to spend most of the day lounging on the balcony outside the rental home she and Steve were sharing. Vienna was in the middle of a cold snap, however, so despite the spectacular view of the city, Sharon moved inside. Understandably, Steve was still very sensitive about being chilled and she wanted to be near him. Plus, they did have actual mission planning to do.

Steve was at the kitchen table, comparing a map of HYDRA cells from his era to a modern one. There was a large, handwritten "X" over several of the 1942 map's targets and Sharon figured those were ones Steve and his team had dealt with personally. She sat down beside him. "So what's the scoop?"

Steve turned, smiling. "Most of the warehouses we took out stayed down; I guess they weren't stupid enough to try the same thing twice."

Sharon's eyebrows rose. "I think you overestimate the intelligence of the average HYDRA agent. Their commanders just know better than to put the buildings in the same place."

Steve nodded, sighing. "Yeah, I guess that would make sense. What have they been up to lately?"

"Surprisingly, trying the same thing and expecting different results." Sharon shrugged. "Super-soldier serum, energy weapons, mind control – the usual."

Steve frowned. "Isn't that the definition of insanity?" He chuckled almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "Of course, this is HYDRA we're talking about."

"Exactly. They don't exactly administer mental health screenings at sign-up." Sharon shrugged. "Bob's a certified nut, but he's pretty harmless. He's a slave to Deadpool and that's the way we like it."

"A HYDRA agent named Bob?" Steve asked. "And who's Deadpool?"

Sharon smiled. "A very special...he's...you'd have to meet him." She shrugged again. "His name is Wade Wilson. He's insane, amoral, and just about the most random creature on the planet...but at least he's on our side. And he is good for a laugh now and then."

"Sounds interesting." Steve looked a little weirded out, but Sharon couldn't blame him. One could not simply explain Deadpool; Wade Wilson was a phenomenon that needed to be experienced firsthand. "Is that why Fury keeps threatening people with 'rooming with Agent Wilson' in his memos?"

"Pretty much," Sharon said. "He used to threaten people with just keeping an eye on him for the day, but then there were volunteers."

Steve shook his head. "I guess as long as he's _with_ us."

"Oh, that's something I am grateful for every day." Sharon ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't even want to think about the alternative. Try to imagine the most merciless killing machine you've ever known, then add in Wolverine's healing factor, Barton's sarcasm, and Stark's dark humor at its worst."

Steve seemed to be pondering the ramifications of that for a moment. "Yeah, that sounds a little...disastrous."

Sharon laughed. "It really is. But don't worry too much. He's not in line to join the Avengers anytime soon. Even Fury's not that reckless."

"I'd hope not." Steve looked dubious. He sketched on the older map, circling spots indicated on the newer one. "There are a lot of mountain passes in these areas. I'm going to need you to keep me up to speed on what parts have been industrialized since I was there last, but I'm still thinking stealth is our best option."

Sharon could always get on board with stealth. She scooted in closer. "Terrain's too rocky to support much building. Most of this is still wild. If you remember how you got in the first time, odds are good we'll be able to do it again."

Steve grinned, draping his free arm over her shoulders as he pointed to the map. "Of course I remember. You forget – it's been seventy years for the world, but for me, it's less than a year."

That was true. The appearance of youth was so effortless for Steve; even if he hadn't been completely cryogenically preserved, the serum still slowed his aging dramatically. Sharon wasn't inclined to be jealous of something Steve had no control over, but she could admit to wishing she had the same problem. "All right. So what's the game plan?"

* * *

A part of Pepper wondered if she was adjusting so well to the shock of her pregnancy because, deep down, she'd wanted it so much. That still did nothing to explain why Tony had been rolling with the punches as easily as he had. Tony was the sort who did nothing without drama, but after his initial shock, he'd been relaxed – even a little excited. Pepper wished she could get inside his head; was this the calm before the storm? Had they been on the same wavelength all along, but with him too scared of repeating his father's mistakes to continue? Or was he just cruising along in denial? Hopefully, Pepper would figure out where Tony stood before the delivery room, but he did seem genuinely happy and she was happy to accept it.

Tony had been uncharacteristically quiet the day after receiving the news, but by that evening, he was in his private design lab putting together gadgets and musing aloud about branching out into the baby product industry. From guided missiles to apnea monitors; they'd come a long way.

There had been the requisite debate over whether to wait out the full first trimester before announcing the news. Common wisdom dictated it, but it was a hard secret to hold onto. Eventually, Pepper and Tony had determined they would tell a select few, the Avengers and trusted friends they'd want on their side in the horrible event of a miscarriage. The public could find out later, once the biggest danger zone was past.

Tony was already experimenting on his offspring. He recalled a story one of his biology professors had told, of placing a flashlight on an expectant mother's belly at the same time in the same spot every day. Once the baby was developed enough to recognize and expect the light, it had responded by stirring and reacting when the light was not provided at the designated time. Tony wanted to see if it worked and so he was getting an early start.

Pepper supposed she should have been more worried about raising the child of a prominent man with many enemies, but she knew her son or daughter would be more than adequately protected. Nikki Warren and Baby Stark were going to be the two most guarded children on the planet, with the might of the Avengers ready to defend them. It was definitely reassuring. And JARVIS would not only be an excellent baby monitor, but he could secure areas they didn't want a curious child to venture into.

Tony laughed as he played with several outlandish nursery designs and Pepper let him have his fun. When the time came to decorate, she would make sure it stayed tasteful, as she had with the rest of the tower. But Tony was happiest when he was occupied, and the design for a tiny suit of Mark VII armor – non-functional, of course – _was _awfully cute.

Pepper was anxiously awaiting the ultrasound. Her doctor had assured her that despite not knowing of the pregnancy, none of her activities had put the baby at any great risk. But she wanted to see her happy, healthy, developing baby for herself. Tony was practically vibrating with excitement as well, and she held his hand tightly as they waited in traffic on the way to her appointment.

As expected, all was well – to Pepper, the tiny person growing inside her couldn't have been more perfect. They could see its brain forming and heart beating, and though it physically didn't look too human yet, Pepper was in love. She could tell from the wonder in Tony's eyes that he was, too, despite the cracks he made about what the baby most closely resembled. The ultrasound technician assured them she'd heard it all – hamster, bean, Rorschach test. Tony added "solder blob on AI soundboard" to her list. Pepper could only chuckle – for Tony, that was actually an affectionate description.

For the reveal to their friends, Pepper and Tony had opted to keep it simple. Though the doctor's office had printed out ultrasound photos in a cute folder labeled "Baby's First Pictures," Tony took a snapshot with his own phone and sent it in a message to the selected individuals. Then they snuggled together on the couch and waited for the responses to roll in – while Tony placed bets on how many of his team would take it for a practical joke.

* * *

It wasn't easy to talk Bruce out of the lab in the middle of the day, but apparently tandoori chicken was one way to do it. Clint and Natasha had dragged Bruce to an Indian restaurant a few blocks away from the tower for takeout, and though he scribbled equations all over his napkin, he actually did seem to be enjoying himself. Natasha had thought it would be a good idea to get Bruce out, even if it was just running down the street, and Clint agreed. Steve was in Austria, Thor had gone to New Mexico for the weekend, and Tony was spending all his time with Pepper. It was good for some bonding time.

When each of their phones chirped in its designated message tone in rapid succession, they all exchanged suspicious glances. Clint didn't know about the others, but he had his alerts set to specific individuals, so he could know when to ignore his phone entirely. That was Tony.

Bruce shook his head. "If he's mass texting invitations to his next party, I'm gonna make plans to be out of town that weekend." He reached for his phone.

Clint looked at Natasha and shrugged. "Well, we're gonna have to look eventually."

Bruce saw it a few seconds before Clint did, and he made a soft, affectionate noise. "Well, would you look at that."

The photo loaded for Clint a moment later, and he frowned at the fuzzy black-and-white photo until he realized what it was supposed to be. Natasha was frowning at her phone; it hadn't taken her as long to figure it out, but she was more experienced in the matter. Clint read the caption – _Brain = 1/3 size of full body. Clearly, mine._

Natasha still looked suspicious, but the longer she looked, the more her expression began to soften. "You know Stark could have pulled this off the Internet, right?" She failed to sound convinced. "All babies look like that early on."

Bruce turned his phone to get another angle of the picture. "I think this is for real. It isn't cropped; that looks like Pepper's dress down under the corner of the monitor."

Clint chuckled. "If he was fooling us, he'd probably have gone for triplets." He analyzed the picture; it was definitely Pepper's name and date of birth in the upper corner of the screen – it could have been altered, but Bruce was pretty good at spotting fakes. And...some part of Clint just liked the idea of having a small person around the house, even if it was Tony's kid. He didn't know if it was residual wistfulness about Nikki or not, but it just felt really nice. Not that Clint could ever admit it aloud. His phone buzzed as Bruce sent a congratulatory message. Clint typed his message, reconsidered a moment, then sent it, trusting they had come to the point where he could get away with it. _Nice. Natasha's kid is cuter, though._

Natasha actually smiled when she saw the message, so that was a good sign. She sent back her own generic congratulations – it wasn't in her nature to be sentimental via text. Or all that outwardly sentimental at all. But Clint knew her and he could tell she was touched.

"Well, this is certainly going to change things up," Clint said, putting his phone away.

"Yeah, no kidding." Natasha took a dainty sip of her drink.

"I think Bruce should cover the middle of the night feedings," Clint declared. "He's up anyway."

Bruce snorted. "Tony's on his own with that one."

Clint scooped up another bite of rice, then ate it before grinning at his teammates. "I can't wait to see Fury's reaction when he finds out Stark's reproduced."

"Oh, I think Fury's got more problems on his hands than that," a voice announced from the corner of the dining room. Bruce backed away from the table, visibly calm but his eyes turning green. Natasha's gun was at the ready instantly. Clint had his bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. And then, as if on cue, recognition began to sink in around the table. Natasha cursed in Russian and Bruce murmured something Clint thought sounded Hindi.

Clint stared openly at his mentor as he tucked the arrow back into his quiver. "Coulson?"

* * *

_Cue dramatic music! Thanks to Memos from Fury for the inspiration regarding Deadpool-sitting duty. Next time, Phil discovers the legal headaches that accompany coming back from the dead. And other fun stuff._


	23. Relief, Rumors, and Rescue

No one in the restaurant took particular notice of him other than Banner, Clint, and Natasha. Phil liked it that way. He had a face that blended into a crowd. It helped make him an excellent spy. Though there had been a lovely tribute to him on a website listing fallen government employees during the Battle of New York, Phil knew no one outside of SHIELD would recognize an average-looking middle-aged guy in a polo shirt and khakis. He saved the suits for official business. The sunglasses were a permanent part of his wardrobe, though. Clint might have publicly perfected the look, but it had been Phil who taught him that an awesome pair of sunglasses was key to securing one's reputation as a badass. He needed to at least feel cool after the headache of paperwork he'd been sorting through. Reactivating one's social security number, proving he was still alive...it was a legal nightmare, and it still wasn't entirely over.

Phil found it rather amusing that no one in the restaurant had any problems with Clint carrying a quiver full of arrows and his bow with him _to lunch_, but perhaps helping to save the entire city with those weapons had made an impression. Natasha preferred concealed carry in public, while Banner was his own weapon. Phil probably could have been less dramatic about approaching them, but he loved catching protegees off-guard and he'd missed it. He trusted them to throw on the brakes before he spent time recovering from yet another severe wound. And they did.

"Coulson," Clint said again – this time, not a question, but confirmation.

Phil nodded at him, as if it were nothing more than polite acknowledgment. It was their way, and he knew the team would be suspicious. He certainly would have been if the situation were reversed. "Barton."

"You're not a life-model decoy, are you?" Clint asked, sounding only half-serious.

"Nope. Got the scar to prove it." Phil smiled. "Why don't we move this conversation to someplace a little more secure? And put that bow away; you'll scare the tourists."

"Sounds like Coulson," Clint said to Natasha. "But decoys can do that, right?" Now he was just being...Clint. Phil cuffed him on the back of the head gently. "Okay, fine, I get it. But I think you've got some explaining to do."

"As I said, secure location." Phil nodded for the door as Natasha put cash on the table to cover the bill. "Just, please, _tell_ me someone beat the crap out of Loki." Maria had filled him in on current events, but he wanted to give them the pleasure of telling their tale.

Natasha and Clint both turned to grin at Banner, who shrugged with a sly grin. "I regret nothing."

Phil chuckled. "Now, that I wish I could have seen."

Clint's eyes lit up. "Oh, you can."

"Oh?" Phil was genuinely interested.

Natasha stood, her smile widening. "JARVIS records everything in the common areas by default. We have it on tape."

"With multiple backups," Clint supplied.

Now Banner was starting to look vaguely embarrassed. "Okay, but can we _not_ broadcast it through the whole tower this time?"

This was exactly what Phil had missed so much. His agents, the banter of downtime, the reveling in a job well-done. He'd trained Clint from day one, and he'd watched as Clint had applied those same skills to training Natasha. Once she'd learned to trust those around her, she'd joined the antics readily. Phil didn't know Bruce Banner very well yet, but he was looking forward to the opportunity to rectify that. And Banner definitely had a sense of humor; it was just dry and offbeat. Phil liked that about him.

Phil would enjoy the fun while it lasted. He knew that before long, these same people would be angry and demanding answers, once the initial emotional high wore off, just as Maria had been. He'd kissed her goodbye that morning, promising her he'd return after briefing the Avengers. It had been hard to untangle himself from her blankets, pull himself away from her body after so long. But the world did not stop turning and business was business. They understood that, and she understood that he wanted to inform the team in person. Then they could all collaborate together on ways to go after Fury. Killing the boss wasn't actually an option – not only was it ill-advised, but Maria had been quite clear she didn't want the director's spot. But they could definitely make life uncomfortable for him.

* * *

When Tony giggled like a little boy, Pepper wasn't immediately sure if it was his excitement following the ultrasound or he was up to something. When she saw the almost manic gleam in his eyes, she knew he was definitely up to something. "What?" They'd delighted in sharing their friends' messages of congratulations – Steve and Sharon hadn't responded yet, but they typically carried only their SHIELD phones when away from base on covert ops.

When Tony just continued to grin at her, Pepper laughed. "Would this have anything to do with why you didn't come to bed last night?" She was used to that; he would either crawl in at odd hours or crash in the lab when he was hot on an idea. She'd learned long ago that if she retrieved him and made him come to bed, he would just fidget restlessly until she let him go back.

"Kind of." Tony took a pair of gorgeous bracelets out of his pocket – silver, with embedded orange gems – and fastened them around her wrists. "These, my dear, are yours."

Pepper looked them over. "Thank you. These are beautiful." But Tony didn't stay up all night making jewelry. "What aren't you telling me?"

Tony took her hand into both of his. "My biggest fear is that someday, I'm not going to be enough, that I won't be able to protect you. Stane, Vanko – they've both come after you. I know we've got the team, and JARVIS is not someone you want to mess with...but it's not fool-proof. And, especially now, with the baby..." He smiled. "So I thought maybe you needed a little something extra." He stood, leading her to the center of the room. "You're gonna want to brace yourself; the first time is something of a kicker."

"Tony...?" Pepper had some vague idea what he was up to now, but she still wasn't completely sure.

Tony grinned. "Trust me, Pep. You know I'd never do anything that would put you or Tony Junior in danger."

"We're not naming him that, if he's even a boy," Pepper responded automatically. But she did trust Tony, so she looked at him and waited.

"Press the stone in the middle on either bracelet," Tony told her. "And, like I said, brace yourself."

Pepper held her breath for a moment as she found the middle gem, which upon close inspection was very slightly different from the others. She pressed her finger against it, and heard JARVIS announce, "Activating Rescue armor, Mark I."

Much like Tony's latest versions of his armor came to him when he called, Pepper soon found a modified version of the Iron Man suit assembling itself around her. Tony had been right, the first time a suit of armor came from out of nowhere was pretty weird. This one was orange at its base, a shade that matched both her hair and the gems on the bracelets, highlighted in silver. The mask slid up so she could see normally as soon as the armor finished assembling. Pepper laughed in sheer disbelief. "Tony, don't you think this is a bit much?"

"It's loaded with defensive weapons only," Tony told her. "It's lighter than my armor, but that makes it easier to move."

"Does it fly?" Pepper asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

"In theory," Tony said, "but I've had JARVIS disable that until you've had proper lessons. It...takes awhile to get the hang of it."

Pepper laughed. "I figured. I saw the security footage."

Tony shrugged. "I know, right? Anyhow, I call her Rescue. She'll get you out of a pinch – and you know me, ever the humanitarian. Should you want to play hero someday, Rescue is designed to be able to do just that. Less weapon, more search-and-rescue. Hence the name. Of course, we'll go over all that after the baby comes."

Pepper had to admit, the idea sounded attractive. "Yeah, I don't think this is going to fit as well when I'm seven months along." Not to mention the obvious danger.

Tony snorted. "No, probably not, but I haven't made the advanced maternity line yet. Still, she's adaptable. You'll have enough to make a break for it if you ever need to. And if you're in a really hot situation, JARVIS is programmed to take the controls, at least until you're familiar with what this girl can do."

Pepper found it amusing that he referred to Rescue in the same way he did his cars, as women, while he'd never assigned any particular anthropomorphic qualities to the Iron Man suit. Of course, _he_ was Iron Man...and, now, she was Rescue, so it made sense in a way. She was deeply touched, knowing how much work he must have put into this, just to try to keep her safe. "I'd hug you, but it would be a little awkward. How do I get out of this?"

"Fortunately, that's a little easier for you, too." Tony nodded thoughtfully. "Rescue's less loaded with...exploding things...than my suit, so it's easier to disassemble. Tap the center of the reactor twice."

Pepper did, and JARVIS asked her for confirmation. When she gave it, the armor began to take itself apart, folding neatly into a briefcase not unlike the ones Tony used for his own suit. It was extremely impressive. Pepper smiled and moved to make good on her offer of a hug. She stole a kiss while she was at it. "Thank you, Tony. It's amazing." She kissed him again, melting against him as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Mr. Stark?" JARVIS asked after a moment.

Tony pulled away, doing his best to look annoyed. "Killjoy. What is it, J?"

"Your presence is requested in the main conference room. Along with Ms. Potts," JARVIS reported. "Dr. Banner asked that I tell give you a message before you arrive."

"So?" Tony prompted, when JARVIS didn't immediately continue. "What's the message?"

"Coulson lives," JARVIS replied cryptically.

Pepper felt her stomach flutter, and she knew it wasn't the baby. Did that mean what she thought it did? Tony froze, his eyes widening, and he took Pepper's hand, leading her toward the elevator immediately.

"Tony?" Pepper asked.

"Sharon was really close to Coulson. She had a theory, that something hinky was going on," Tony explained, his expression stone but the emotion in his voice giving him away. "We never could find proof, but Bruce and me...we started joking, you know, that we should make little wristbands for the cause or something, see if we could get Fury to talk."

Pepper was able to put two and two together pretty quickly. "Coulson Lives." She frowned at Tony. "You don't really, think, after all this time...?"

Tony shrugged, clearly trying to play it cool. "Well, chest injuries can be a bitch to recover from, as I recall. I guess we'll find out."

* * *

Natasha, Bruce, and Clint had already taken seats around the conference room table when Tony arrived – and sure enough, someone who looked suspiciously like Phil Coulson was leaning against the wall in his oh-so-casual way.

"Phil!" Pepper immediately rushed over to hug him, tearing up.

Coulson returned the hug, though in the most chaste of ways – Tony made sure to watch that. "It's good to see you again. And I hear congratulations are in order."

Pepper beamed, and Tony could swear the rumored glow of pregnancy had found her already. Or maybe it was just because she was so overwhelmingly happy. Either way, he loved seeing it. "Thank you."

Tony wandered over and patted Coulson on the shoulder. "You look pretty good for a dead man, _Agent_."

"Yeah, that's why we're here." Clint crossed his arms. "I think we can all agree we're gonna need some answers, and if I have to drag Fury's ass here to do it."

"I'll tell you what I know first," Coulson said in that infuriatingly calm tone of his. "Then we can discuss having the director fill in the gaps." He glanced around. "Is the captain going to be here?"

Clint laughed and looked at Natasha, who was smiling. "See? Ever the fanboy. He's got to be the real thing."

Coulson had the grace to look a bit caught, and Bruce intervened before Clint could pounce any further. "Steve's on assignment with Agent Carter in Vienna. They're tracking down possible HYDRA camps. Thor's in Asgard, though he'll probably pop in once Heimdall gives him the scoop. That guy really does seem to see everything."

"So I've heard." As Tony and Pepper sat, Coulson began to explain. "I can't give you too many specifics, because I don't have them. I woke up in a SHIELD medical facility somewhere, but it wasn't the Helicarrier..."

* * *

Sharon wasn't normally much of a hiker, but she was actually enjoying the trails as they climbed across the border. It had a romantic element to it, a spy and a soldier – not to mention the way her heart jumped every time she remembered that soldier was now her boyfriend. She let Steve lead the way on this one, though she knew it herself...she and Phil had taken this very same footpath over a decade ago, and she knew exactly what was up in the clearing ahead. A HYDRA camp, long ago burned to the ground by Steve's Commandos – but after he'd been lost. After Steve's plane went into the ocean, his team always left their mark and a message on the only thing they ever left standing – the original sign.

Steve stopped, looking at the ages-old ruins ahead of them. "Wow."

"You trained your boys well." Sharon put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, there's something I think you'll want to see." She led him to the sign, letting him read the words burned into the wood, next to a star with a circle around it – the Captain's Mark, they'd called it.

"_Pour notre capitaine,_" Steve murmured. He hadn't had time to learn French to any level of fluency from Jacques Dernier, but he'd picked up some – enough, Sharon knew, to read the note. _For our captain. _Steve wiped a hand over his face, clearly touched. "That's...they were such great guys."

"They thought you were pretty great, too," Sharon reminded him. "Phil and I came here a long time ago to check the place for leftover booby-traps – milk run when things got slow. He showed me this."

Steve smiled wistfully at the mention of Phil. "I wish I'd gotten to know him better. Seems like he knew a lot about me."

"Yeah, Papa Jaq taught him well." Sharon waited for Steve's patented surprised expression, the one he always tried to cover, and she wasn't disappointed. "I'm not surprised Phil didn't tell you. He was always pretty low-key about that, never wanted to look like he was trying to brag. Same way I was, with Aunt Peggy." She smiled, taking a seat on a tree stump. They weren't in a hurry; this was a milk run mission too, at least unless they uncovered something of value. "Phil's mom was Emmaline Dernier, Jacques' daughter. She met Phil's dad in the States, but he took off about a year after they got married, before Phil was born. Never heard from him again, so 'Papa Jaq' stepped up. That's why Phil's always worshiped the ground you walk on – so did his grandfather."

"Wow." Steve looked off into the distance, clearly lost in a memory. "That's pretty amazing. I..." He broke off as Sharon's phone beeped with a message. They only had their SHIELD phones on them, so whatever it was had to be business.

Sharon nearly dropped her phone when she saw the name on the message. She'd never had the heart to delete Phil from her phone, and that was his SHIELD number, which had been retired in his memory. The message only further shocked her. _Maria says to tell you that you were right. Enjoy your trip. Call when you can. _"Holy hell." She was torn between calling the number back immediately and lighting into whoever thought it was a sick joke, but...very few in SHIELD had this business number. She was high enough that it was need to know. No one should have had access to Phil's. And...that fragile hope still burned inside her.

"What is it?" Steve asked. "Is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Think I just got a message from one," Sharon replied, shaking her head. She looked at Steve, trying to find the courage to call that number back and learn the truth. "I think Phil's alive."

* * *

_Thanks for your patience! More soon, but I'm off to catch "The Book of Mormon" in Chicago! Next chapter, Sharon confirms Phil is alive. There are plans to confront Fury, but plans always seem to go awry..._


	24. The Lost Ones

_A warning – I am about to secure my reputation as an evil bitch in this chapter. But, just remember, things have a way of working out, and "the end" has a different definition in the Marvel universe. :) (And, no, this is not the end of the story. :-D)_

* * *

It took her a few minutes to both explain things to Steve and gather her courage, but Sharon dialed Phil's number and metaphorically held her breath.

Phil answered casually. "So, it's been awhile."

It certainly sounded like him. Sharon wasn't as suspicious as she felt she should have been, but she still took nothing for granted. "I'll say. Maybe we should get together – a little wine, the opera?" She hated opera, actually, but it was an old joke between them, and his response would tell her everything she needed to know.

Phil snorted. "Screw that. I have a revolution to run." His fondness for _Les Miserables_ extended far beyond his heritage, and it was another thing he and Sharon had shared. They'd seen the show enough times that they could be snobs about which actors they preferred in each role. And they'd laughed that Phil was the leader of the revolution, rounding up his ragtag students to fight the evils of the world, while Sharon supported him and fought at his side but had no desire to take the reins.

Sharon smiled, satisfied. "Don't tell me I'm not gonna get a piece of Fury because I'm here on assignment. Do you think he planned it that way?"

"I don't know," Phil replied, "but if that was what he had in mind, I'd think he'd have gotten _himself_ out of dodge – you know, undisclosed location."

"Yeah," Sharon agreed. She glanced at Steve and nodded confirmation; he returned the nod and watched her, quietly calm. Some might have been assured, but Sharon knew Steve too well for that. This was a deadly calm, the one that meant he was furious and debating how to proceed. The only thing that Sharon was relieved about was that she wasn't the target of his anger. "I'm guessing Maria's not too happy." She knew how close Maria and Phil were, and though they'd never confirmed it, even to her, she suspected there was more between them than friendship. Sharon always knew Phil's public story was a cover, but she wasn't one to pry when he chose to keep the truth to himself.

Phil chuckled. "Yeah, she's pretty pissed. And I've got a room full of dangerous people who aren't too thrilled either."

Sharon knew Fury would have some excuse that probably made some sense in the scheme of things. SHIELD had faked its operatives' deaths before. But they never covered it up internally, not to the extent of telling no one. "Just don't forget about us when you form your mob. Steve wants a piece of the action, too."

Phil sounded pleased. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Sharon assured him. "Here, talk to him while I get some work done." It was a flimsy excuse, but she knew it would do both men good. Steve had taken Phil's death especially hard; in his mind, he hadn't just lost a soldier, but a friend he never got the chance to know. She held the phone out to Steve. He looked unsure, but took it.

"Agent Coulson?" Steve asked as he put the phone to his ear. Sharon didn't make out Phil's reply, but it made Steve grin, and that was exactly what she'd been hoping for.

* * *

Tony had allowed himself to be more than a little smug when he set up a press conference for that afternoon without making Pepper do it. Technically, JARVIS had done it, but JARVIS was Tony's creation, so that counted – and it was kind of amusing seeing how many people had conversations with JARVIS without ever realizing he wasn't actually human.

Pepper had been vaguely doubtful when informed, but then she'd begun to see Tony's point. Holding a press conference to debut the Rescue Mark I prototype would be a great PR opportunity, especially considering Stark Industries had invested a great deal in programs to encourage young women to pursue lofty career goals. Also, it would likely distract the media from Pepper's pregnancy for a little while longer, considering they were currently poised to jump every time her dress bunched up the least bit. Overall, it was an excellent plan and Tony was happy to accept the credit.

Coulson was another matter entirely. Tony's head was still spinning over that one. Like Sharon, he'd always held a glimmer of hope that Coulson was alive, but it had begun to fade as time went by. A storm of emotions swelled every time Tony thought about it. Delight. Memories of the horror of being told Coulson was gone – Coulson, the agent who wouldn't go away, who wasn't afraid to snark back at him, who'd been there from the beginning. And rage at being lied to. Tony didn't let people under his skin easily, so he didn't take well to it when they left. It didn't matter how much of a push the Avengers had needed to unite; there were other paths Fury could have taken. Knowing Coulson was critically wounded would have been bad enough. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, and Tony wasn't surprised that Bruce had slipped off to his Hulk-proof workout room. Tony had Dummy leave a change of clothes outside the door.

Coulson had departed a few hours after his arrival, claiming he needed to rendezvous with Agent Hill on...something work-related; Tony hadn't really been paying attention. Honestly, he didn't care – SHIELD administrative business was about as exciting to him as a dead weasel on a stick. Coulson promised to return later with Hill so that the team could discuss a plan for confronting Fury. Apparently, Fury hadn't even let his second in on the secret – not a good plan. Tony didn't know Hill well, but he knew she was formidable and he was sure he never wanted to be on her bad side. He rather suspected she wasn't terribly fond of him, but she wasn't out for his blood, and that was good enough for Tony.

* * *

Pepper had no idea how much of her wild emotions were hormone-related, but she suspected it was actually the lesser portion. Too much was happening, things that would have overwhelmed anyone, pregnant or not. She was relieved to have Phil back, angry over the betrayal, worried for Tony...and, still, thrilled about the good things in her life. She ran her fingers over Rescue's smooth orange and silver casing, awaiting the press conference – another surprise. Tony couldn't remember his own staff meetings without a reminder, but he'd organized a last-minute press conference. It was rather impressive, even if they'd had to hold it off-site, as the Stark Industries press room was already booked for an event.

Out of habit, Pepper checked the messenger bag she thought of as a the go-kit. Her mother had passed away after a long battle with a degenerative disease, and she'd had a tracheostomy at one point. Every time they left the house, they had to carry emergency supplies – backup trachs, suction equipment, anything to handle the unexpected. A nurse had nicknamed it the go-kit, and Pepper had designed something similar for Tony – except instead of breathing tubes and an awkward suction machine, this bag had a backup arc reactor and wiring and other essentials for keeping Tony alive. He had a habit of forgetting it when he went out alone, which Pepper had hounded him about many times, but it gave her peace of mind to have the bag ready – and the fact that it looked like any other businessman's bag kept it from drawing attention to the valuables inside. Tony didn't like leaving reactors unlocked, due to the value of the Starkanium core, but Pepper didn't like knowing Tony was more than a few minutes away from life-saving technology should an emergency occur. To calm Tony, she'd put fingerprint scanner on the clasp, keyed to only her and the Avengers, who had all been trained to replace the reactor if necessary. It was an acceptable compromise. Tony's sternum and most of the ribs surrounding it had been destroyed when the shrapnel tore through his chest. Yinsen had replaced them with the high-quality steel he had on hand – ironically, pieces of the same weapons that had nearly killed Tony in the first place. The metal was fused throughout Tony's chest and that plus the depth of the reactor housing meant CPR was useless for Tony.

It scared Pepper that Tony was so entirely dependent on the combination of the reactor and pacemaker to keep his heart beating. Stark Medical's surgeons had looked at the scans many times and determined that between the placement of the shrapnel and the physical damage to Tony's heart, surgery was too risky, even with all the innovations they had at their disposal. So they continued this dance, technology meeting willpower.

Pepper wasn't used to sitting around waiting for a press conference to start; she was usually running around making sure everything was in place. But that was being done for her, and as weird as it seemed, it was nice. She chuckled as Tony ducked in to check on her and nuzzled his neck briefly, not caring if the cameras caught them. It wouldn't be the worst publicity they'd had to deal with.

"How you doing?" Tony murmured.

"I'm good," she assured him.

"See?" he asked, gesturing at the organized chaos around them. "I can do this stuff."

Pepper chuckled. "Then why don't you do it more often?"

Tony shrugged. "Because then I'd just be paying you for companionship, and I'm told some people take a dim view of that." He smiled and kissed Pepper quickly on the lips before moving away to continue supervising the setup.

Pepper shook her head, smiling fondly. He really was one of a kind.

* * *

The conference room Tony had secured for the press conference was not as brightly lit as he was used to, but that was fine, since most of the presentation was computer-projected anyhow. The podium was lit for pictures – always a good thing – and Tony really didn't care how brightly he could see any of the reporter's faces. Reporters were like lawyers, as far as he was concerned – useful, necessary, but obnoxious to deal with. Government agents were much the same, except there were very few of them Tony considered necessary or useful. Coulson was a rare exception, and Tony didn't really think of Natasha or Clint as SHIELD agents anymore.

"Earlier this week, Stark Medical released a new line of apnea monitors intended to protect the most vulnerable infants." Tony flashed his best grin as cameras flashed all around. "Today, the engineering arm of Stark Industries is stepping up our commitment to humanity with a new type of armor for a new type of mission." As the holographic image of the Rescue armor rotated on the screen, showing off the compartments meant for first aid supplies instead of tank missiles, Tony had the audience's rapt attention, and he hadn't even gotten to the best part of the demonstration. A hand went up, and Tony nodded, privately betting he already knew what the question would be.

"That chest plate, is it designed for-"

Tony cut the guy off, not to spare the awkwardness, but to make his move. "Yeah. Those are breasts." There were a few chuckles, and most of the women looked wary – not totally unexpected, given his history with women. "Let's face it, folks. Women are better meant for tight spaces. They're flexible, agile, nurturing. And there's one woman in particular who's saved my ass more times than I care to count." The room murmured knowingly as Pepper stood up. Tony loved riling extreme feminists up just to chill them out – there was no way they could argue with Pepper and win. "The Iron Man, as you know, is mine. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to be the first to introduce you to Rescue – commanded by the lovely Ms. Pepper Potts." Tony moved to kiss Pepper cheek, then stand back as she tapped her bracelet to activate the armor. He admired his handiwork – and his girlfriend – as Rescue came together, the audience falling silent as they watched, cameras snapping all around.

Then everything went dark.

Tony groaned as his tech crew started scrambling. "I swear I had nothing to do with this!" he called out, trying to lighten the moment. The glow of his arc reactor and the one that powered Rescue gave him some light to see by as he headed for the techs to see what the problem was. Rescue's face plate slipped up and Pepper gave him a puzzled look. "I don't know, Pep. I'm gonna check on it." He ignored the commotion and protests of the crowd as people tried to push their way through. Humans had a tendency to get stupid in the midst of the unexpected, even something as simple as a power outage.

Happy was using the light of his phone to navigate, when he suddenly turned as someone bumped into him. He yelled to Tony. "Gun!"

Tony reacted without thought, wishing he'd brought the Iron Man armor for a comparison. His power bands were on, but the armor was several miles away and it wasn't yet able to navigate Manhattan streets without him. But thanks to training sessions with the Avengers' resident assassins, he'd gotten pretty good at disarming people by himself. "Pepper! Get down!" He was grateful she had Rescue to protect her, but she had no training yet. He was sure someone in the room thought this was a set-up, to show what Rescue could do. But Tony was just as out of the loop as anyone else.

"Tony!" Pepper shouted as she raised her palms defensively.

"JARVIS! Activate program Defend and Protect!" Tony called before moving toward the man with the gun, who was raising it. Tony pounced on his back – unconventional, but effective. They tumbled to the ground together, wrestling for control. Tony tried to feel for the gun's safety to put it on, but he couldn't keep the weapon steady long enough. He felt a sharp pain, then a stinging in his neck, before the floor rushed up to meet him.

* * *

Tony shouted a command into the chaos, and Rescue's face plate slid back into place. Pepper was momentarily disoriented as she adjusted to the heads-up display.

"My apologies, Ms. Potts," JARVIS told her, "but I am obligated to assume the controls. You may move freely, but I have ultimate command of the armor."

"No, that's okay! Do it!" Pepper was happy to help, but she had no idea what this suit did. It felt natural, though, as she moved with the armor as it brought an arm up to deflect a stray bullet. People screamed at the first shot and began to flee the room. Pepper jumped from the stage to an empty spot, moving to shepherd people out of the room. She wanted to help Tony, but she knew they needed to get the innocents out of the way first. As the crowd lightened dramatically and it was clear there weren't multiple shooters, Pepper turned to run back to Tony. She gasped in horror as the gunman had him pinned to the floor and wrestled the rifle back. Pepper knew Rescue wasn't meant as a weapon, but she had no hesitation as she snapped, "JARVIS, how do I shoot this guy?!" People were rushing on either side and she had no idea if she had a clear shot.

"Quite easily," JARVIS replied with his trademark wit. Pepper's arm swung up into position, firing a blast from the palm repulsor. The sound of the blast echoed in her ears, and she hurried forward as the gunman collapsed onto Tony. She prayed the gunshot she thought she'd heard right before the blast had been something else.

* * *

Bruce had retreated to go vent off some of his anger after Coulson left, and Clint and Natasha had pretty much done the same. The only difference was, instead of reinforced gym, they took to sparring – or, as some at SHIELD referred to it, beating the crap out of each other.

Clint grunted as Natasha swept a leg under him, knocking him flat. He sprung up before she could land on him and put a knife at his throat – though, for safety, they only used training weapons during their matches. They both had ugly scars from the first and last time they'd introduced live steel during practice. Clint didn't remember their fight on the helicarrier, and he was grateful for it, but they were lucky they'd both come out alive. They knew each other's strengths and weaknesses intimately. Natasha often laughed about Clint's use of a bow in hand-to-hand combat; as far as he was concerned, it wasn't just a range weapon. Hitting or choking people with it was also a valid option. He preferred not to get that close, but that didn't mean it never happened.

There were no heart-to-heart chats during their sessions; talking was a waste of time and breath, a way to get slammed against the unforgiving floor. Sometimes they went their separate ways afterward, each in search of a shower and some downtime. This time, Natasha fell into step beside Clint as they left the gym, toweling off. It was going to be one of those times when they took turns in the shower and then collapsed together on the couch. There might or might not have been conversation. Clint knew he was pretty spent; the unhappier they were, the harder and longer they fought.

"So do we actually think ganging up on Fury is going to work?" Clint asked, snapping his towel at Natasha's leg playfully. She snatched it away in retaliation. "I mean, he's...Fury. Do you know how many shits Fury gives about what we think? None."

"I don't know if it'll accomplish anything," Natasha admitted. "He always has his reasons. But that doesn't mean we can let him think he's got a free license to screw with us."

"Yeah, I guess." Clint was just about to provoke Natasha into an argument for first shower when JARVIS' emergency tone sounded, stopping them both. There were six very jumpy people who called the tower home, so "emergency" always meant an _actual_ _emergency. _They had different tones for practice drills.

"Code 13F, Regency Plaza Hotel," JARVIS said, and Clint cringed internally. They'd developed codes for various emergency situations, in order to avoid mass panic among any civilians that might have been in the building. JARVIS only broadcasted the alert to levels the Avengers were actually on, but they didn't isolate themselves to their private levels entirely. 13F: one of the team was in trouble. Clint cursed. He really, really hated that one, especially knowing that it had to be Tony. He was at a press conference at the Regency. And Pepper was with him.

Natasha had an odd habit of swearing in languages other than Russian when she was displeased; she started in her native tongue and branched out. By the time she and Clint were in uniform – no time to shower – she was working her way through Arabic. Though they could change in minutes, Bruce didn't actually need time to get ready, and he'd already left. He'd offered to stay and give them a lift, but Clint had experienced Hulk's rocky ride once and that was enough for life. JARVIS had one of the auto-pilot cars – built for speed and equipped with enough tech to get them through crowded streets in record time – meet them out front.

"What the hell did Stark get himself into at a _press conference_?" Clint asked, slamming the car door closed as he leaped in after Natasha. She growled something about no place being safe, using the short trip to double and triple check her weapons. When Clint saw the crowds pouring out the door of the hotel, he jumped from the car before it was fully stopped, rolling into the fall and pouncing to his feet. He saw no sign of the Hulk – who was pretty hard to miss – and Clint had a bad feeling that _wasn't_ a good sign.

* * *

Pepper fell to her knees beside Tony, shoving his attacker off him. She gasped in horror as she saw the damage – it had been a gunshot she'd heard indeed, and more than one. Her hands automatically went to the wound in Tony's shoulder to stem the flow of blood – and it was disorienting, not being able to feel beneath the armor. She had JARVIS dispense the trauma kit, then tapped the chest plate to remove the armor, wincing at the bloody smears on her gloves. She was snapping instructions to the people closest, whether they were her employees or not. Someone to call for an ambulance. Someone to grab the bag from under the podium. Someone to put pressure on the shoulder wound so Pepper could deal with the far more pressing concern.

Whether the shot had been aimed or part of the tussle, a bullet had shattered the arc reactor. The outer covering was reinforced to protect against that sort of thing, but at point-blank range, there wasn't much that could be done. Even the Iron Man's bulletproof reactor cover wouldn't have stood up to it. Unfortunately, Starkanium was a reactive element, and upon the reactor's destruction, it had exploded as well, melting Tony's shirt into the burns on his chest. It wasn't toxic and it dissipated quickly, so Pepper knew she could touch it, but her heart sank. This was far more than replacing a dead reactor. What was left of the reactor had fused with the housing, making it impossible to remove without tools. The wiring was underneath, so Pepper couldn't just switch reactors and leave the new one attached but not settled into the cavity. This was going to require tools and experts – and judging by Tony's color, he didn't have that kind of time. He was unconscious – a blessing, she supposed – and his pulse was crawling. The pacemaker automatically dropped his heart rate when the reactor was off in order to slow the advance of the shrapnel, but Tony's heart was going to stop any minute. The shrapnel would be at gravity's mercy again; it was probably already on the move, and that was if there wasn't more from the reactor's demise. Pepper had no idea what the underside of the reactor looked like. Tears streamed down her cheek, but she fought to keep it together; for Tony, she had to keep her head.

The Hulk's outraged roar made Pepper jump, but she was too focused on Tony to worry about it. She was terrified, but not of Bruce's alter-ego at the moment. Every ounce of fear she had was otherwise occupied. The room shook as the Hulk lurched forward, but it was Bruce who landed on his knees at Pepper's side – disheveled, shirtless, but definitely Bruce. Sometimes it took him a moment to recover from the transition, but this time, he was completely focused. Pepper updated him quickly. "I've got an ambulance on the way; they're waiting for us at Medical. What can we do _now_?"

Bruce shook his head, his hands running over the destroyed reactor. "Nothing. It's melted; there's no way we'd have enough time to pry it loose. They can do surgery to replace the housing, but..." He checked on the shoulder wound briefly, but only gave it a glance. His eyes were a vivid shade of green, but he was keeping it together somehow. The control he'd gained was amazing.

Tony coughed, causing his upper body to spasm, and it was pure blood. Pepper shook her head. "No, no, no...Tony, come on, fight this! Hang on. We'll get this fixed." She knew she was lying. She knew there was blood in Tony's lungs if he was coughing it up, and she could think of several reasons why. Even so, she turned to Bruce as Tony fell back, still once more.

Bruce was feeling for a pulse, desperately moving from Tony's wrist to his neck, fingers probing. He was muttering to himself. "Pacemaker prevents fibrillation, standard AED would diffuse the electricity along the sternum and ribs..."

Pepper put a hand on Tony's chest, trying to feel him breathe, and there was...nothing. Heat radiating from the burns. No rising and falling. Too still, too quiet, too pale. She almost lunged forward to breathe for him, despite his bloodstained lips, but she knew it would be no use. It finally hit her that there was nothing she could do, even as paramedics arrived and looked to Bruce for guidance. At some point, Natasha and Clint had arrived, but Pepper couldn't have said when. She fell back onto her butt, all concerns for dignity gone as the dam finally broke and she began to sob. "Tony..." She gasped his name, half desperation and half prayer.

Bruce put a hand on her shoulder, having moved away. That was only confirmation in Pepper's head, and she began to sob harder. "I'm sorry, Pepper. I'm so, so sorry." Tears were gleaming in his eyes, too.

Pepper got to her feet, pushing past the medics with nothing to do. One of them reached for her, but Clint put a hand on his arm. "Don't, buddy. Just don't."

Pepper ran her fingers through Tony's hair, dropping her forehead to his. She didn't care who saw her or what she looked like. That morning, she'd been walking on air, knowing her world was changing forever. Hours later, it was falling apart.

* * *

They were nearing the target site, and Sharon could feel herself getting into the mode of the mission. Talking to Phil had really pumped her up. It was such a boost that she could almost forget how pissed she was at the director.

Steve's phone rang and he pulled it out, glancing at it. "It's Agent Coulson."

Sharon held her hand out. "Here, let me take it."

Steve raised his eyebrows, curious, but handed the phone over. Sharon answered it. "_Live la France_."

"Sharon." Phil barely reacted to her answering Steve's phone. "We have a lock on your location. Stay there; Agents Emerson and Riley will be arriving in the next few minutes to relieve you."

"Okay." Sharon was baffled. It was definitely a mission junior agents could handle, but why pull her and Steve out so late? "What's going on, Phil?" From his tone, she knew it was serious.

"Not over the phone," Phil replied. "We'll talk on the way back to New York."

Sharon nodded. "Okay. We'll be ready. Did you need to talk to Steve?"

"No, you can relay the message."

Sharon sighed, growing uneasy. That spoke volumes. "Okay. I'll talk to you later." She hung up and handed Steve his phone. "We're being pulled. Something's going on."

Steve frowned. "What is it?"

"I don't know." Sharon shook her head. "Whatever it is, it's bad."

* * *

_Again, I am aware that I am a terrible, horrible person – but remember what I said before about the end not always being the end... ;)_


	25. Murder in My Heart

_To those of you who are hanging in there after the last chapter, my deepest thanks. I'm generally a no-warnings person personally, but I do respect those of you who want them. I swear, I actually have a plan in here somewhere. :)_

* * *

Maria stood outside the room at Stark Medical, peering through the small, frosted window. She could make out the shapes within – and the door didn't block sound. Maria winced. Phil had often called her "the toughest of the tough," but she was still human. Hearing Pepper's heartbroken sobs – almost a keening at this point – as she refused to leave Tony's side...well, it got to Maria. Not just as a human, but as a woman who had been there. Mostly. She hadn't gotten the chance to see Phil's body – too much had been going on, and she knew why now. But that didn't change how it had felt in the moment. SHIELD generally cremated its operatives quickly, in order to avoid enemies who had the means to do terrible things with the bodies and brains. Nothing at the time had raised red flags for Maria; she'd been too lost in her grief. The man she loved was gone and that was all she could see once the battle had been won. She'd finished her duty, retreated to her quarters, and completely fallen apart.

Maria knocked gently on the door. Normally, she'd have left Pepper to her privacy – they didn't know each other that well, after all – but she was led to intervene.

"Come in," Pepper called, her voice rough and choked with tears.

Maria stepped in, closing the door behind her, registering Pepper's surprise. "I'm sorry."

Pepper nodded sadly. "So am I." She looked nothing like the powerful woman she was; she was lost, broken, and Maria hated to see it. But she understood.

"I can't say I know exactly how you feel," Maria told her, "but I feel for you." Before she could let her instincts about revealing personal information kick in, she pressed forward. "I lost a man I loved, too."

Pepper cocked her head, surprised, and her wary posture relaxed a bit. She looked down at the floor. Tears were still flowing freely down her cheeks, but she'd regained some of her composure. "I guess it's not surprising, in your line of work. I'm sorry." After a moment, she looked back up, meeting Maria's eyes. "How did you get through it?"

Maria put a hand on Pepper's shoulder, cautiously at first, but tightened her grip when Pepper welcomed it. "I cried for days. Whenever I wasn't working. I made sure he had justice. And then...I started to put my life back together." She wished she could tell Pepper the end of the story, but she wouldn't offer false hope. And she had been okay, even before Phil had come back. She'd missed him desperately, but she'd learned to make it without him. "But you have something I didn't." Technically, she knew she shouldn't know this, but no one would suspect anything when she said Phil told her.

Pepper put her hand on top of Maria's, her eyes fixed on Tony's face. "What's that?"

"His child." Maria knelt so that she was at Pepper's eye level. "All I had was vengeance. You've got so much more." Admittedly, she wasn't ready for motherhood in the least, but if she'd had Phil's child, back in those dark days...it would have been a beacon of hope.

Pepper almost smiled, but she didn't quite make it. "Yeah." She reached out tentatively, and Maria allowed Pepper to pull her into a hug. "Thank you."

Maria blinked furiously as her eyes began to sting. She didn't cry in front of anyone. Ever. Except Phil. Once. But this hit her where she lived. She hadn't been all that fond of Tony Stark – mostly because she always seemed to be left to clean up his messes after Phil was gone – but he was still a fallen comrade. And while his childhood hadn't been as spectacularly horrible as hers, he'd had it rough. He'd never been a soldier, not like most of them, who knew what to expect. He'd been a civilian who survived something terrible and wanted to keep it from happening to anyone else. That, Maria could respect. She didn't murmur comforting nothings to Pepper – it felt unnatural to her – but Maria could hold her. It wasn't much, but it was all Maria had to offer.

* * *

Phil and Maria had been on their way back to New York via Quinjet when they'd heard the news. There wasn't time to mourn; there was work to do. Arrangements to make. Steve and Sharon had to be recalled – technically, they could have finished the mission, but the team was going to need their captain. And he would need to be with them. There was intelligence to gather about the assassin. The autopsy had to be set up – the cause of death was known, but it was standard procedure, and Tony had specified before his death that he wanted others to be able to study the setup that had kept him alive, so it might someday be applied to those with similar injuries.

Maria had gone to see if she could offer any support to Pepper; Phil would go by to check in later. He felt Maria would be more effective, not just as a woman's touch, but as someone with a similar story. Phil and Maria had been in some tough spots before, but he'd never lost her, and he prayed he'd never know what that felt like. He collapsed onto the couch in his New York apartment as Maria let herself in – they had a collection of keys to each others' various residences. She quickly moved to the couch and curled up beside him. He could tell she was emotionally exhausted.

"How'd it go?" Phil asked.

Maria shook her head, reaching up to let her hair down. It spilled over Phil's shoulder and he ran his fingers through it, comforting himself with her presence. "Natasha was finally able to talk Pepper into going home."

"Good." Phil rested his cheek against the top of Maria's head. "She needs to rest. At least she got to shoot the bastard who did it."

"Any intel yet?" Maria asked.

Phil sighed. "Early info suggests he might be affiliated with Ten Rings, but nothing confirmed. We're still going through a dozen aliases with different leads."

"Lovely," she muttered.

Phil agreed. Tracing terrorists to specific cells could be like searching for needles in a haystack. Only the stupid ones left a direct path back to their masters. "Yeah."

"What about the rest of the team?" Maria asked.

Phil shook his head. "They're doing the best they can. Thor arrived in from Asgard an hour or two ago. He's arranging some ritual for fallen warriors." That reunion had been quick but bittersweet. "I didn't get all the details. It's pretty complicated." He sighed. "Sharon's with the captain. I think he's pretty shaken, but he's keeping it together. The others...they're coping in their own ways." Natasha and Clint had barricaded themselves in their adjoined living quarters and were refusing to answer anyone. The last Phil had seen Bruce, he was raging in his reinforced workout space, and Phil had let him be. He tried not to meddle in the affairs of rage monsters, especially not when they had multiple valid reasons to be angry. "This really throws things for a loop."

"Yeah," Maria agreed. "We could probably move Colonel Rhodes onto the team in time; they already know him."

It might have sounded callous from anyone else, thinking already of how to replace Tony's spot on the team. But that was the way Maria's mind worked, and Phil knew she worked around her emotions by focusing on practicalities. "Might not be a bad idea. But they're going to be out of commission for awhile, unless something really messy pops up." He trusted the Avengers would act if they were needed, but keeping them occupied with smaller issues wasn't the right idea. Even Fury had agreed to that much, in the brief time Phil had spoken with him. The discussion they'd planned to have with Fury would have to come another day. No one would forget it entirely, but the time wasn't right.

"So what now?" Maria asked, snuggling closer.

Phil wrapped his arms around her. "We regroup. We heal. Then we find out who was behind this and kick their asses so hard their great-grandchildren will feel it."

* * *

It had been a long and terrible trip home. Coulson had broken the news to them via video conference, as New York was already abuzz with the news and Coulson didn't want them to hear about it that way. Steve couldn't get his head around it. Tony Stark, dead. Tony had long ago stopped being "Howard's son" in Steve's mind, but that connection tugged at Steve's heart as well. Tony might have been a loudmouth, a pain in the butt who left books with titles like _All My Friends are Dead_ lying out in the open for Steve to find. Captain America action figures in the ice bin. But he was there when the chips were down. Steve's heart ached, and he paced the jet, since there was nothing else he could do to unleash the tension.

Sharon was holding up better than Steve had thought. She'd cried briefly, but then pulled it together and become all business, taking what little information they had on Tony's killer and following the leads. She allowed Steve to touch and attempt to comfort her – and she was all his if she thought he needed it. But she was on a mission, and Steve was happy to support her vendetta. She knew how to make technology work for her and he let her, as long as he got in on the action when SHIELD struck back.

When Steve got back home, his first priority was to check on his team. Thor embraced him warmly, trying to explain a detailed Asgard ritual he would be performing at dawn. Steve assured Thor he'd be there and he would spread the word to the rest of the team. Steve didn't understand much of it, but anything to honor Tony's memory would be nice. Clint and Natasha were refusing all contact, but they were together, and Steve knew they would support each other.

Steve went to look in on Pepper next, having gotten the news of her pregnancy only moments before learning Tony was gone. He knew Pepper would never have to worry about raising that child alone, but he was worried for her. Fortunately, she was asleep, so Steve let her rest. It would do her more good than he could.

Bruce was asleep on the floor of the Hulk-proof gym, splayed in an awkward position. Steve winced; that couldn't be comfortable. He'd seen this once before, when Bruce was so worked up he exhausted even the Hulk. As soon as he stopped to rest, he transformed back and slept where he fell. Steve roused him gently and guided him to bed.

As he got Bruce settled, Bruce unexpectedly snagged Steve with one arm, pulling him closer – to the point Steve was forced to sit down beside Bruce in order to avoid standing in an awkward position. Even in his sleep, even as himself, Bruce was remarkably strong. Steve could have pulled free – he still had the physical advantage – but he would have had to wake Bruce to do it. And Bruce was not a person who asked for help often. And, frankly, Steve didn't want to be alone either. He laid down next to Bruce, who relaxed into a deeper sleep. Steve was too worked up to sleep, but he was more than happy to keep watch.

* * *

Pepper woke in the middle of the night and automatically reached to the empty side of the bed. For a moment, she could almost pretend Tony was working late in the lab again. But then she was fully awake and she knew. She climbed out of bed, noticing belatedly someone must have talked her into changing clothes. All the better; she certainly didn't need a blood-stained dress to remind her what happened. It was pretty vividly etched into her memory – along with everything else. Maria Hill's visit...surprising, but deeply touching. Natasha coaxing her away from Tony. That was when she'd changed; she remembered it now. Pepper rubbed her stomach absentmindedly; she'd been okay in theory with being a single mother, but not like this.

She didn't even really think about where she was going; she just had to get out of their shared bedroom for the moment. But Pepper ended up at the main lab, and she went in despite the voice in her head that warned it would do her no good. She sat down in one of the computer chairs, picking up an empty glass beaker. Pepper hurled it against the wall, finding it surprisingly satisfying as it shattered upon impact. A rack of unused test tubes was the next to go. And that unleashed the storm. Anything breakable that was of no great value went flying, the shards crashing to the floor. It was a great metaphor for the shards of her heart. Pepper was careful to avoid cutting herself on any of the broken pieces, and as soon as it was safe, Dummy scurried out to sweep them away.

Finding nothing more she could risk breaking, Pepper sank back into the chair. She wanted to cry, but all her tears were gone for the moment. She screamed in frustration, grabbing her hair in her hands, but the physical pain did nothing to relieve her emotional agony. She had always been fairly ambivalent regarding religion, but now she knew the resentment Tony had always expressed. _No, Virginia, there is no God._ At least not a just one. Perhaps Steve could convince her otherwise someday, but not today.

A line from a song popped into her head, and it felt apt. _But there's murder in my heart and there's nothing I can do._ Her mind knew what it was doing. Pepper had the song on a playlist, just because she liked the tune, but now it had become her life. She would do anything to avenge Tony. She should have felt something about killing a man, but she couldn't, at least not now. It only felt just. Whoever he was, whoever he was affiliated with, that man had murdered Tony. And Pepper would have killed him all over again, taking longer, making him suffer.

Pepper moved to the kitchen; she wasn't hungry, but she felt she owed it to the baby to choke something down. That was the only reason she had to take care of herself, at least now, when the raw grief was strongest. Maybe she would start to care again someday. When Tony had disappeared in Afghanistan, she'd had hope. When he'd been dying of palladium poisoning, she hadn't known. When he'd flown a nuclear bomb into a portal, she hadn't had time to react. This...this was like nothing she'd experience. When her mother had died, she'd at least had the assurance her mother was out of pain, free from a body that had stopped working. Tony had too much to live for. Everything had been going right for him for a change. There was no justice in the world.

Pepper managed to eat half an apple; it was all she could do for now. She had at least made an effort. She headed back to bed, feeling like the three-minute trip took hours. Dummy had beat her back to the bedroom, and he made a bumbling attempt to tuck her in. Pepper wondered where he had learned that. She shooed him off gently, pulling the duvet up to her shoulders and sinking into the pillows.

Tomorrow, she would start learning how to command Rescue, at least as much as the baby's safety allowed. She wouldn't allow Tony's final gift to her to go to waste.

* * *

It was kind of amazing, actually. People who pretended not to speak English still managed to get incredibly annoyed when someone started working their way through every bizarre English-language song they could remember. "Exquisite dead guy...rotating in his display case..."

A dark and dirty basement was still preferable to a desert cave, and it was kind of pathetic that he'd been held hostage enough times to develop preferences. He sang louder as another man entered, armed to the teeth like all of the others.

"Keep it up and you _will _be exquisitely dead," the man warned. "Everyone already thinks you are and if you do not cooperate, you are of no use to me."

Tony rubbed his neck, which was still sore from whatever he'd been injected with. "I _knew_ one of you assholes spoke English. Who are you, General Butt-Naked?" He thought it was a rather clever historical reference, if twisted, but he doubted it would be appreciated.

The man slapped Tony roughly across the face. "Who I am is of no consequence to you."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Really, do you all memorize the same 'evil overlord' speech? You want me to build weapons? I think we've established before I'm not gonna do it. Iron Man suit? Still mine, still has safeguards. So...what this time?"

"Nothing." The leader – Tony had figured that much out from the way the others were deferring to him – smirked. "You have destroyed our plants, ended our contracts, ruined our plans. We want nothing but to make you pay. Slowly, until your body can take no more. We would have started already, but I wanted to make sure you were fully aware."

_Oh, great. More torture._ Tony didn't let his trepidation show. "You realize the Earth's best aren't going to just let you have me, right?"

The guy had even studied the "evil chuckle," it seemed. "Oh, but they will." He pulled out a smartphone – interesting to note, wherever they were, it had cell service – and turned the screen so Tony could see. The headline certainly got Tony's attention. _Billionaire Tony Stark Dead in Attack, Terrorism Suspected_. The article's print was too small for Tony to read from a distance, but the picture accompanying it both disheartened and enraged him. There was a photo of him, naturally, but another from the scene. Bruce was holding Pepper, his face stone. She was clearly crying, and Tony snarled. "You bastards."

The leader tapped his fingers against one another. "Yes, it was a significant investment on our part, to steal the materials, to develop a copy of your reactor, to allow the process to complete. We had hoped to replace you, but unfortunately, your mind could not be replicated properly. Plus, killing you strikes a deeper blow. I think it worked out better all around."

Tony struggled against the restraints binding him. He'd chew through them if he had to. "They'll know it's not me. I'm kind of hard to duplicate. You can't just pop a reactor in a body an expect them to believe it."

Tony's captor snorted. "We are not as simple as you think. We have records of Dr. Yinsen's work." He said the name with such distaste that Tony reactively tried to lunge forward again. It didn't work that time either. "Every piece replicated, down to the last bit of shrapnel. Your DNA, duplicated."

Tony put the pieces together. "DNA, then. A clone." There had been more than enough opportunities to collect DNA during his first imprisonment. A horrified thought occurred to him. "Are you telling me you developed a clone – accelerated growth, obviously, probably nanites – just to mutilate it?" Tony couldn't call it "him." If the clone was to last for even a minute after he was taken, it had to be self-aware. Even if it couldn't duplicate his mind, it could feel pain. He had to divorce himself from the thought and the panicky feeling of PTSD-related memories that taunted his conscious mind. That was no doubt exactly what they wanted. "That takes a special kind of sick mind, you know that?"

The smile the man flashed at Tony was positively twisted. "Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment," Tony muttered. He was going to get out of this. He'd done it before. He would get out, then he'd come back and destroy the place. No big deal. _Nothing stops Tony Stark, right? _It was about the only time he fully believed his self-hype, when he had something larger riding on it. Like getting home to Pepper.

* * *

The full autopsy report wouldn't be back for a few weeks, which was typical, but Bruce had managed to sneak a copy of the SHIELD medical examiner's initial notes. Technically, he'd had JARVIS use his backdoor to get them, but the methods didn't matter. They weren't heavily encrypted and Bruce wouldn't have cared if they were. It wasn't going to do his nerves any good to read the report, but he had to. He needed to know everything.

Most of it was standard. Organ weight, descriptions; things that might have disturbed an average individual were nothing to Bruce. Cause of death: laceration of the aorta, caused by shrapnel injuries. Not surprising. DNA was a confirmed match for Anthony Stark; there was an anomaly in one sample that was undergoing further testing. Nanites found in the tissues consistent with samples from the Extremis project. And that was when Bruce shoved away from his work table, hacking into Tony's personal laptop with practiced ease. He and Tony were both aware that they both had the knowledge to crack each other's encryption; they just usually didn't out of courtesy.

"JARVIS, give me everything you've got on Extremis. _Everything._" Bruce knew about Extremis. SHIELD had broached the idea and Tony had started to play with it – a way to integrate man and machine, to make armor sets like Iron Man and War Machine one with their owners. It was based on nanite technology and was theoretically possible, but it needed a lot of work. Bruce was almost positive Tony hadn't started real-world tests yet. He fed SHIELD an occasional report, but he had expressed his doubts to Bruce about the advisability of the project. Nanites were not always reliable, even when they came from Stark technology.

As Bruce had suspected, Tony's private notes indicated he was not yet ready for a test run. Nanites were difficult to distinguish from one another; it took great skill and the proper equipment to dissect them to determine their missions. And, through General Ross, Bruce had seen enough _other_ applications of nanite technology, most of it pretty shady.

Bruce flew back to his computer to reread the report, his resolve growing. The heart had been lacerated by shrapnel, a pacemaker had been found and recovered, but the heart tissue's strength was described as within normal limits. Bruce laughed out loud; Tony kept his own secrets from SHIELD, and one of the more sobering ones was that his heart was significantly weakened. He wasn't facing heart failure yet, but it was a possibility that loomed in time. Identifying features noted several scars, all accounted for, but that didn't satisfy Bruce at all. Scars were easy to manufacture. A SHIELD GPS tracker had been identified and Bruce made a joyful noise upon reading its specifications. It was damaged, not working, but definitely the latest generation. Too new to be real. Bruce turned from the lab and bolted for the kitchen, where most of the group had gathered after Thor's ceremony. It had been nice, but Bruce had headed for the lab immediately after; dealing with everyone else's emotions on top of his own had been too taxing.

"Hell?" Steve was asking, looking disturbed. "I know he wasn't exactly religious, but-"

"Hel," Clint clarified, shaking his head. "One l." He shrugged when Thor, Steve, and Natasha looked at him in surprise. Pepper barely seemed to notice. "What? I had to study this crap after Thor showed up in New Mexico."

"So she's another Asgardian," Steve said slowly, as if taking it in.

"Yes," Thor confirmed. "Hel is Loki's daughter, queen of the departed-"

Bruce took his opening. _Never let it be said I have no sense of style._ "Yeah, and unless she hops across the Rainbow Bridge for a visit, Tony's not meeting her anytime soon." Though, from what he knew of Norse mythology, that could have been pretty amusing to watch. "He's not dead."

Pepper looked at Bruce suspiciously. Steve's expression was more worried and pitying, as if Bruce were delusional. "I know it's hard to process," Steve began, "but-"

"No!" Bruce waved the tablet he'd copied the autopsy report to triumphantly. "The GPS chip was latest generation. His heart muscle had average elasticity." He laughed, caught up in the relief and delight. "There were _nanites_ in his system, and he hadn't initiated Extremis experiments yet."

"English?" Steve requested, though hope was beginning to dawn on his face.

"Forget Extremis; I'll explain later." Bruce shook his head, putting the tablet on the table as he sat down. "Whoever that was – or whatever, I'd suspect – it wasn't Tony. His heart is weakened, as we all know. And he has the prototype GPS tracker. If that doesn't set off alarm bells when someone above the average idiot at SHIELD reads the report, I don't know what will."

Pepper was openly staring at Bruce, but that look said she had nothing that would refute his claims. "Are we sure this isn't SHIELD bullshit, or maybe some mistake? I mean, their doctors don't know those chips like their tech people, right?" She wanted to believe and Bruce could understand why she couldn't let herself do it right away. But he would never offer her such hope and snatch it away.

"Without Extremis, nanites mean accelerated cloning technology," Bruce explained. There were other applications, but none that had achieved stability as of yet. "They could duplicate anything about Tony. They could damage a body, but...the heart muscle; I bet they didn't think of that! And there are only two of the original trackers in existence and they're in Sharon and Tony!"

Steve was still playing the devil's advocate, but Bruce didn't mind. It helped him strengthen his case. "But wouldn't SHIELD have looked for the tracker? I mean, even just to make sure it was accounted for?"

"Sure." Bruce shrugged. "But the one they found was damaged and it wasn't broadcasting. And they're good, but they're not perfect. Lead shielding, deep layers of ground or concrete, the right technology – those signals _can_ be blocked."

"So you're sure." Pepper met Bruce's eyes, her jaw setting firmly.

"I wouldn't have brought it up if I wasn't," Bruce promised her. "I don't know where Tony is. I can't promise he's alive. But whoever died yesterday _wasn't_ _him._"

Steve rose from the table, as if anticipating where Pepper was going. The others followed. They weren't always of a like mind, but there were exceptions, and most of them involved one of their own. "Then I'd say we have a mission."

Bruce grinned. "Damn right."

* * *

_Do you forgive me now? I would have waited on this chapter, but I'm not trying to torture you, and the muse was cooperating. :-D More to come! The Avengers on a mission! (If you have the Avengers soundtrack, please turn to Track 18. :-P) Also, my apologies for typos. I've read this through several times, but I never catch them all and FF. Net is being stupid and not letting me replace anything past Chapter 19 without completely deleting and reloading._


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